Only 7 days to go....

...Until I enrol on my course. My excitement at starting my journey to become a JOurnalist is tempered by a worry that I will look completely out of place. Given that I am 39 in a matter of weeks, and I am older than many students' parents, I am understandably apprehensive. However I have to admit that I am also really looking forward to many aspects of the course. Modules include Photographic and Sports Journalism and they are areas of great interest to me. It's going to be tough, and I will need to be disciplined, but it promises to be a great experience.

Well done The Lord!!!

The Lord has delivered today as he secured his place at University. He achieved this by gaining two C grades in History and PE, and a D in Sociology. He was offered a place at Hope University and will start in September.

All things considered, his achievement is remarkable, and he should feel extremely proud of himself. The media has been full of tales of woe today as more students than ever are seeking limited places, and many people are going to be very disappointed. He has no reason to worry as his place is assured, and I am certain he will do well. Both Jane and myself are very proud of him today, and he deserves his success completely. Well done.

Down the allottment

Liverpool by night

Stunning

Kids. Who would have 'em?

Following a three day mini-break to sunny Norfolk, Philip and Ellie have both returned unwell, and our trip to Dorset has been delayed temporarily. Philip's complaints of a sore throat were quickly followed by a spell of vomiting this morning. A quick trip to the walk-in centre confirmed our suspicions: TONSCILLITIS. Anti-biotics, plenty to drink , and lots of rest were all prescribed in various doses. He is currently lying on the sofa feeling dreaful, the fun and frolics of the previous few days now a distant memory.

Ellie entered our bedroom at 3am, complaining of not being able to sleep. Without warning, she then deposited a bellyful of vomit onto our bed. As you can imagine I was far from thrilled as I began the clearing up process. 60 minutes later, having failed to get back to sleep, I headed to her room, and climbed the ladder to her bunk. A most unsatisfactory night's sleep followed, and I was devastated when my alarm rang out at 7am. With the prospect of a 14 hour shift now a reality, I showered and dressed in silence. I left home at 07:45, (Philip was still in bed, his diagnosis still ahead of him) and headed to work. Ellie appeared brighter but was far from 100%. I really hate it when one of them are ill, but both at once is almost too much to bear.My fingers are crossed for a speedy recovery.

UPDATE: Neither have eaten but the nausea has gone. Both are officially in sick bay, under the watchful and protective eye of Sister/Mother Jane. They are in safe hands.

Poor old Tom

In the end he looked like a pensioner at the end of a wedding reception. He will sleep tonight.

Good morning fellow crusties

Tomorrow morning I will be attending a welcome session for mature students at JMU. I've deliberated all day as to whether I should go but have decided to attend after all, in the hope that I will meet some interesting people. But I can't help feeling a bit nervous, and there is plenty of scope for embarrassment. I haven't even got a long scarf or corduroy trousers.

The greatest goal that never was

The Blogmeister is back!!!

Due to overwhelming demand, (thanks Joanne) the blog will continue for the foreseeable future, despite rumours of a permanent closure of this site circulating in the local media. After literally minutes of soul searching, and absolutely no discussions with my family whatsoever, I've decided to carry on, and give my adoring fan what she wants, (no innuendo intended). So let's see what disappointing commentary and observations I can come up with. Starting tonight.

Always the bridesmaid

A 1-0 loss at the quarter final stage robbed us of a chance of lifting some silverware at Under 9 level. We always try to play football though and that is the most important factor of all. And we are a TEAM.

To blog or not to blog

That is the question. The trouble is, I have nothing to say at the moment. It doesn't bode well for my future as a trainee Journalist does it?.

It's amazing....

What a good fitness session can do for you. A testing hilly run earlier on this evening has left me feeling great. I'm in fine fettle, which will come in handy during the long night ahead.

Mixed feelings

On the one hand a great entertainer....

Raise your glasses...

To my fellow triathletes who performed with such distinction on Sunday. Brother-in-law Trevor flew around the course in a breathtaking 2 hours, 40 minutes. My good friend Julia Hodgson, hampered by an ill-suited bike, still managed to complete the course in 3 hours, 23 minutes. I take my hat off to both of them.

Life after the Liverpool Triathlon

Apart from a slightly tender backside, (the legacy of a lop-sided bike ride?) I feel pretty good. Working a night shift after the race wasn't great, but I managed to survive. The adrenaline from Sunday was still flowing so it helped to get through until morning. Six hours of sleep later and I am getting back to normal. But my imagination has been well and truly captured by the Triathlon, and the preparation for my next event has started already.

The Swim

=======

Leading up to the event I was terrified at the prospect of doing a one mile long open-water swim. Once I had practised however, (I did four swims in total) I found that I was quite looking forward to it. On the day I swam the course in 36 minutes, and I left the water feeling exhilarated, if not a little dizzy and tired. I think that, with some coaching, more lengths and much more training, I could bring that time down to below 30 minutes. It was probably my best performance of the day

The Bike

======

My concerns about the suitability of my bike were proved correct as I completed the course in 1 hour, 30 minutes. From the moment I cycled onto the course I was routinely overtaken, and it would have proved far more demoralising had it been a surprise. As it was I was ready for it, although it was no less frustrating. I actually felt that I was cycling well, and I never lacked effort at any point. But I just didn't have the hardware, and that prevented me dipping under three hours in total. I used the time on my bike well as I a) admired the many stunning bikes that were flying past at regular intervals and b) working out how I am going to finance the purchase of a new machine. I clambered off the bike in transition needing to run a 46 min 10k to achieve my pre-race target.

The Run

======

A solid if unspectacular run of 51:52 gave me my final finish time. I took the first lap very cautiously, allowing my legs to recover from the bike section and to gradually loosen up. I pushed it for the second and I finished strongly, milking the applause that came my way. Unlike a few running races I have entered, I immediately began to examine my performance, looking for areas in which I could improve. I was very positive about how I had fared, and I refrained from criticising myself for not achieving the time I had so hoped to get. The Triathlon bug has, like for so many others, bitten me hard.

Three disciplines gives every competitor a chance to shine, and the transition is a place to prove you are adept in changing clothes. Never before has towelling my feet taken on such importance, and my lack of talcum powder cost me 10 seconds at least. The sight of myself in a wetsuit, with every excess ounce of fat on display, has inspired me to get to grips with my food intake. The training of the last few weeks has finally started to pay dividends with a noticeable body shape change underway. Looking around at my fellow triathletes, one couldn't help but feel that becoming trim is essential if progress is to be made. That, and the acquisition of a new bike better suited to racing, will go a long way to help make my tri experience more positive.

Looking to the future, I have made the following plan which I hope will lead to the Ironman distance in four years time. It is open to change, and I plan on getting some expert advice from those who have done it over the coming weeks and months. But for now, the plan is as follows;

Rest of 2009 to early 2010 - base training. This will include getting some further swimming and cycling coaching.

Spring 2010 - Olympic Distance tri around March/April.

June 2010 - Liverpool tri again, (aiming for around 2 hrs, 45 mins).

Rest of 2010 - early 2011 - further base training.

Mid 2011 - Half-ironman distance.

Rest of 2011 - base training.

Spring 2012 - half-ironman event.

June/July 2012 half-Ironman event

Rest of 2012 - Mid 2013- Ironman specific training.

SOMETIME IN MID TO LATE 2013 - IRONMAN

That's the plan anyway. Looks good to me.

3 hrs, 6 mins....

This is 50 feet from the finish line. Full report tomorrow.

Not the one that got away.

The one that got away was bigger, but this is a belter nonetheless, Ellie had pestered me to go fishing so we were very pleased when this was eventually on the bank. I had a cheap telescopic rod, a broken and battered reel, and sweetcorn instead of maggots. But a little bit of angling skill later and we were celebrating wildly. A great moment.

5 miles...

...In the bag. With less than a week to go it's just a case of ticking over now. I haven't done too much running lately but I still felt strong. The rest of the week will be spent doing short, sharp work, with a few 'bricks' thrown in, (practising bike then run). I'm getting into the tri-zone now, and am getting so involved, I think I should go out and buy a bike. I deserve it.

A week is a long time in Triathlon

With just 7 days to go until the big race, my preparation is now in the fine-tuning stage. I am heading to the Albert Dock at 9am to take part in my fourth and final open-water swim before next Sunday and, perversely, I am now looking forward to it. It seems so strange that only a month ago I was petrified at the prospect of swimming in the docks, yet now I am actually excited , and certainly not afraid or intimidated. If I am honest, I'm more nervous about stages two and three as my bike is slow, (it's a hybrid, used for commuting) and I haven't done too much running of late. That said, I feel that I have a good running base to call upon so I should be okay. The weight loss which I threatened all those weeks ago has failed to materialise, and I look truly awful in the wetsuit. It leaves little to the imagination, and highlights every bit of spare flesh, (I have plenty in case you are short). But it really is about taking part, and I am relishing the challenge, and hope that I come through unscathed.

Do I look as tired as I feel?

Not the most interesting post I admit, but I could murder a nap.

24 hours on...

...And I am still buzzing. To be voted the CLUB person of the year is quite an honour in my opinion, and the recognition makes my work inside the club even more worthwhile. I fully realise that people who get involved in junior football do so for their own reasons; by that I mean their intentions aren't altruistic. Whether it is a desire to coach, having some control, the need to work with children, or the opportunity to teach etc.. the options are endless. For me, the chance to spend quality time with my son, try my hand at coaching whilst attempting to develop other young footballers, was too good an opportunity to miss. From that came the match reports which reignited my love for writing and which, after a few twist and turns, has led to my enrollment onto a Journalism course, with the prospect of a career change in the future. So, in short, the position of a football coach has led to many different things, and it fulfills many needs in my life. Gaining recognition for that, and for it to mean such a lot to other people, is deeply satisfying to me. The club website, which I set up and continue to run, has proved very successful and popular, with almost 5,000 hits to date. Whilst slightly embarrassed as I made my up to collect my shield, inside I was thrilled. I have always respected the pillars of a club, those people who make it happen, and to be put in that bracket is great. Now I have to build upon this, and keep trying to improve the club in the future.

A special day

But I'm too tired to tell the tale. I will fill in the blanks tomorrow.

By Liam Deveney, Marshalls FC Club Person Of The Year 2008-09!!!

Another gratuitous photo

But I am very pleased with it.

Or Ellie could become a model

If I don't become a Journalist...

....maybe I could become a Photographer.

We're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo

Life goes on

Although we never lifted the cup, it has still been a great weekend, with a further triathlon progression. Everton lost out yesterday simply because they lacked the strength in depth of their opponents. That said, imagine Chelsea without Terry, Lampard and Drogba and you can get some idea of how the blues felt yesterday missing Jagielka, Arteta and Yakubu. It was always going to be difficult, and we almost made it harder by scoring so quickly. Chelsea, their pride stung, had 89 minutes to make amends. They did, but only after Saha missed a chance when the sides were locked at 1-1 which would have given us the lead. But it wasn't to be, and congratulations must go to Gus Hiddink, that rarity of a Chelsea manager who doesn't lack humility. His are very large boots to fill.

This morning was way more successful as I managed to swim my first mile in open-water. As a guest of The City of Liverpool swimming Club, I enjoyed pleasant company and expert tuition, and my technique came along leaps and bounds as a result. After just 45 minutes in the water I felt excited, confident and optomistic. Moreover, I felt the excitement of discovery as I immediately began setting my sites towards the half-ironman distance and beyond. Not since I joined Mossley Hill Athletics Club prior to starting my first marathon training have I felt such sporting butterflies. The sheer nature of the triathlon appeals to my love of diversity, whilst the non-impact nature of the training will help my ailing limbs and joints. I have a spring in my step which will be very useful tomorrow morning as I embark on 20 miles on the bike, followed by a 4 mile run. The road to the ironman starts tomorrow morning.

Now for the weekend

My 13 hour days are now over until Tuesday, and a most exciting weekend is about to begin. Can the mighty blues do it and beat Chelsea tomorrow?. I think we can, but only if we score first. I'm saying 1-0, with Cahill grabbing the all-important goal. Come on the lads!!!

I will be returning to the banks of the Mersey on Sunday to practise my open-water swimming in preparation for the triathlon. It would be nice if it followed the open-top bus tour as Everton parade the streets of Liverpool with the FA cup. I, and Philip who is very excited, are dreaming of success.

Last 8 in the Woolton Tournament

A 1-0 defeat in the quarter final saw the green machine bravely bow out. We were the better side, but a failure to convert our chances proved costly. The only two teams to beat us today contested the final, with Formby the red-hot favorites to win. A full report will be posted on www.marshallsfc.me.uk later on. In the meantime I am going to The River Mersey for an open-water swim practise. To say I am nervous is an understatement. Deep GULP. Yikes...

"This is Liam Deveney, Sky Sports News."

I've just sent an email to the head of Sky sports in the North West with a view to spending a shift or two with one of their reporters. The more I think of it, the more I like the thought of working for Sky. Surrounded by sport, I would be in heaven. I've crossed everything.

Sod's Law

Last night, when handed the opportunity to leave work an hour early, I changed in a flash. I bid farewell to my colleagues, both of whom were watching from the hostel entrance. I climbed on my bicycle and pedaling towards home. 10 yards later I was rendered stationery as a nail had entered my front tyre. In an instant my early dart had disappeared. I changed again, and began the 3/4 mile walk to the bus stop. I eventually got home around the time that I normally would have.

The only silver lining was that the bus driver was unable to give me change of a £5 note so I got a free trip. But it was scant consolation. After the excitement of Monday, and the opportunity to play on Everton's beautiful pitch, it was back to reality with a bang, (and a nail).

Match of the day

So, I can now say that I have played at at Goodison Park, and I have the photos, and the stiffness, to prove it. I am doing my best not to give myself a hard time, (as I always do) and am focusing on all of the positive aspects of todays event. It truly was a most memorable day on so many levels. Daryl and myself lined up on the same team, Philip walked out onto the pitch as a mascot, Ellie and Jane were in the stands cheering us on, and I played well, fully enjoying the run out, and providing some moments of quality . I should have scored, (I missed two chances, one glaring) I gave the ball away a few times, (rustiness) and I felt heavy, (by about two stone to be honest). But it was wonderful nonetheless, with playing on the best pitch of my career, (by a mile) to having DEVENEY on the back of my shirt adding to the occasion. To be treated like a professional footballer, albeit for a short time only, was fantastic, and has left me counting the days until we can do it all again.

The game itself went so quick it was over in a flash. I've never been so reluctant to leave the field of play, and I could have carried on for much longer. My fitness held up really well with my recent triathlon sessions paying dividends. Although lacking match sharpness I felt strong, and was running right up to the final whistle. I fully believe that I would have scored had the game ran for a further 10 minutes, as I was getting closer and closer. My sitter in front of goal was uncharacteristic as I shot with my right foot when I should, and usually would, have switched it to my left. As it was I quickly got on with the game, and shortly afterwards set up our second goal. I had also provided the pass for our first so I could claim two assists at least. I also felt more comfortable playing wide left in the second half as I know the position well. The opening 45 minutes were spent in central midfield, in direct opposition to two former professional players, one of which, (Joe Parkinson) could boast of an FA cup winners medal in his cabinet. I was impressed by how often they took the simple option, and they rarely gave the ball away. It was a salutary lesson in how top players play the game. I enjoyed the tussle, and I felt that I acquitted myself well. My head was held high when I finally, and reluctantly, left the pitch.

Following a quick shower we were ushered upstairs for a quick bite to eat and a well-earned drink. I then had the pleasure of having my photograph taken with 'The Butcher of Bilbao', the former Spanish International player called Goikoetxea. This is a man who earned his soubriquet by shattering the ankle of a young Diego Maradona back in the eighties. I am not normally impressed by fame but I felt that I wanted to meet this legend of European football. He was certainly more charming than when he played, and even attempted to get a kiss from Ellie for good measure. She however was having none of it, and offered him only the top of her head . She is no lover of reputations and, as she told me later, "he isn't my dad is he?." A wonderful sentiment from a most special day.

So many fantastic memories were made today and it would be hard to pick a favourite. If I was pushed I would choose the run I made from defence to attack in the middle of the first half. After collecting the ball in my own half I surged forward, and travelled 40 to 50 yards with the ball. Just for a fleeting moment I was Gazza in his pomp, switching the ball from one foot to another as I considered my options. When I finally made the pass it was intercepted, and the attack was halted in the process. But for three or four balmy seconds, as I ploughed a lone furrow through the centre of the pitch, leaving many overweight ex-footballers in my wake, I felt as good as I have ever done. It was worth it just for that. There was no happy ending, but sometimes there is no need for one. For today it was the process, and not the outcome, that mattered most.

Playing at Goodison Park

In little over 2 hours. I'm so excited. Full match report later.

Still fuming

Them MP's take the piss. I say sack every one of them who has 'flipped' their houses, claimed for mortgages that have been paid off, or just generally ripped us all off. They disgust me more each day.

Where did it all go wrong?

Michael Owen must wake up every day and kick himself. Twice. The first kick relates to being a multi-millionaire, stables-owning, helicopter-flying, 30-something superstar. The second strike however is a timely reminder of how quickly life can change in professional sport. As his career appears to be on the wane, and with potential suitors scarce, he must be regretting his move from Liverpool to Real Madrid more than ever. In pursuit of glory, (or was it euros?) he gave up his opportunity to become an Anfield legend, and headed off to La Liga. A few years on and he is danger of becoming the forgotten man of European football, out of favour with Capello, Shearer et al.

When he first burst on to the scene he seemed unstoppable, and destined for a trophy-laden career. Incredibly fast, composed and clinical, he was unstoppable for club, and a talisman for his country. His goal against Argentina in 98 will never be forgotten, nor will his FA cup winning double against Arsenal. But he then made the unwise choice of signing for Real Madrid, and he simply hasn't recovered. Cashing in on the fact that his contract was about to run out, (his wages at Madrid were astronomical) he swapped red for white, and loyalty for personal gain. An ill-fated season with Spain's premier club boosted only his bank balance as his confiidence suffered due to prolonged periods on the bench. With no interest shown by Liverpool, (his preferred option) he signed for Newcastle, and has remained there for the past 4 years. At the weekend he was substituted by his one-time strike partner for England, Alan Shearer, and he had largely been anonymous and could have no complaint. It was sad to witness his toothless display as it wasn't so long ago when he was terrorising defenders across Europe. He barely gets a mention nowadays when the talk is about the great strikers playing today, and he seems destined to miss out on both 100 caps, and the goalscoring record of Bobby Charlton which appeared a formality only a few years ago.

Back at Anfield, and another player who was on the verge of a mega move away from Anfield but who wisely chose to stay put, has just been voted FWA player of the year for 2009, and looks certain to lead his club to further glory. Steven Gerrard's and Michael Owen's careers ran parallel to each other for many years until Owen left. Gerrard toyed with leaving on two occasions but stayed put, and cemented his legend status in the process. How Michael Owen must look in envy at the status his former teammate enjoys. Admittedly he always gets an ovation when he returns to Anfield, and fans of the club will always speak kindly of his time as a player there. But he gave up any hopes of legend status when he left for Madrid, and it must still irk him to his day.

Life has obviously been good to Mr.Owen, the proud owner of his own cul-de-sac no less in leafy Hawarden. He has A-list friends, an impressive stable to indulge his passion for racehorses, and a beautiful family. But I fear, history will judge him as the man who had it all, and lost it when he left for Madrid.

It makes me angry

MP's expenses have generated so many headlines over the past few days that I'm not going to try and write and new ones. Like so many others I suspect I find myself angry beyond words with each revelation that reaches us. But then this is the same government that allowed the Home Secretary to keep his job when his son was found to be selling drugs. Should we be surprised?. Not at all.

The night-shift survival kit

It includes;

1) Sweets

2) Internet

3) A series of The Wire

4) Chewing gum

5) Ricky Gervais Podcasts and Audiobooks

6) Water

7) Hot milk with honey

The most vital are the Podcasts and Audiobooks. Without them the night would be very long indeed. The others are optional, with an Internet connection the next in importance. All are vital though in getting me through to 9am, and the drive home to bed.