The World Cup has bared its heart of darkness - that cheating works. A few days ago, we saw a German goalkeeper feign a ball in play to rob England of a key goal. Last night, to their shame, Uruguay twice used knees and hands of "God" to bounce a ball in play out of their net - and still won, since the Ghana team, so full of heart and energy, were weak on penalty kicks. Ghana - the only African team still in at this late stage - should, by all that is just, even dramatic, or fun - been the team to go on - instead, an unscrupulous Uruguay moves forward. One hopes that the Netherlands will avenge the Ghanaian defeat. Still, if play is without honour, why should we honour the winners?
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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I do so agree on this TS. Since the Thierry Henry handball v the noble Irish last year, the gloves have come off, so to speak. Fifa must act soon, and decisively.