Monday 1 July 2019

Field Of Dreams Come True

THAT was the weekend, that was!

Finally, approaching four decades since I became an avid follower of America's 'National Pastime', I saw a Major League Baseball game in person.

Yes, it wasn't over the Pond, but nevertheless it was a real contest with two massive juggernauts of the sport going head-to-head in the first-ever London Series.

As soon as I discovered MLB had arranged for the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees to meet in a two-game series in the capital, I knew I had to be there.

At the time of the announcement I was still working and hoped to watch the contests in the Press area of the London Stadium covering the action for the Liverpool ECHO. After all, Boston's owners - Fenway Sports Group - are also in charge of Liverpool Football Club.

However, that all changed in January this year and I now had to make other arrangements for the big summer showdowns.

Having organised my transport and accommodation, I began my pilgrimage from Liverpool on Friday morning.

By early afternoon I was checked into my hotel, and an hour or two later I had made my way to the 'London Yards' event at the Truman Brewery in Brick Lane, barely a couple of home run shots' distance from Spitalfields Market for those who know their capital geography.

There, I was amongst many friends. Virtually everyone was wearing a baseball cap and shirt displaying the colours of their favourite team - yours truly included in my San Diego Padres livery.

Fabulous ballpark-inspired food and drink was being served while fans could partake in both pitching and batting challenges in specially-erected cages. For me, I was just happy to have my photo taken posing on a Topps baseball card!

Three hours later, full and refreshed, it was time to return to my hotel back down in Putney and prepare for Game One on Saturday evening.

Saturday morning dawned with beautiful sunshine and with forecasters predicting the hottest day of the year lay ahead in London, I was more than happy with that.

My biggest fear was the 'Great British Weather' would intervene and lead to the games being called off due to rain.

But thankfully there was zero chance of that occurrence and the main objective was to seek shelter from the sun's powerful rays and not the heavens opening with a deluge.

Game One was scheduled for a 6.10pm start but I had made the conscious decision to be at the London Stadium early for a very special photographic event.

Via Twitter, fellow baseball fans had arranged for a 'teams group' shot featuring supporters of all 30 MLB franchises - and I was more than happy to represent the Padres for this!

First, though, I had to purchase a ticket for the game. I was given several options for my seat but in the end settled for what I thought would be a decent one. It was high above home plate, with the third base line directly in front of me.

The ticket safely tucked away in my wallet, it was back for the photo. Seeing and greeting fellow fans was a wonderful occasion and everyone was clearly buzzing with real happiness that their dreams too were about to be realised in just a few hours' time.

Sat down in the shade, a longer chat followed with a good friend of mine, a huge Yankees fan who I'd arranged to meet at the Stadium, before it was finally time to take my seat.

And what a sight to behold. My unrestricted view of the diamond and outfield was just perfect.

The pre-game formalities completed, for me time just seemed to stand still when Boston's starting pitcher, Rick Porcello, tossed the first pitch of the game for a called strike at 6.10pm.

In that moment I thought of how I'd grown up as a child learning about baseball through my wonderful Dad and over the intervening decades had come to love this most special of all sports.

And now, at last, I was watching it for real.

Thirty runs, 37 hits and an almost record-setting four hours and 42 minutes later, it was all over, a brilliant double play instigated by shortstop Didi Gregorius sealing an extraordinary 17-13 victory for the Bronx Bombers.

Travelling back to my hotel took the best part of two-and-a-half hours via various Tube trains hurtling along deep into the London night. But inside I was flying, on such a high for what I had witnessed for the very first time in my life.

Sunday was Game Two, but for me it was time to head back to Liverpool. I managed to follow the action via my phone during my train journey seeing the Red Sox race into an early 4-0 lead. However, by the time I returned home to watch the remainder of the clash, New York had turned all that around, eventually prevailing 12-8 to sweep the inaugural London Series.

Yes, the 'Damn Yankees' once again!

But in the final reckoning, the results barely mattered to me. Actually being in attendance for a MLB game was the most important part of the weekend in the presence of thousands of fellow fans, many like me, I guess, who had waited a lifetime for this to happen.

God willing, I'll be attendance at the London Stadium next summer when the St Louis Cardinals and Chicago Cubs are set to lock horns for the London Series 2020.

And maybe one day, hopefully in the not too distant future, I'll witness in person my Padres play in San Diego and see another lifelong dream realised.

Because for me, there's really nothing in sport - and often life itself - that can truly compare with "the old ball-game".





Friday 31 May 2019

Whatever happens...

I BEGAN writing this blog late on the evening of Friday, May 31, 2019.

Twenty-four hours from now, the winners (and losers) in the 2018-19 UEFA Champions League Final will be known.

Celebrations will be full swing across either Merseyside or North London while sorrows will be getting drowned in the same places should the trophy not be going to Anfield or the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium.

My allegiance, as all my family and friends know, is with Liverpool Football Club.

And I think I can pinpoint the moment I became a Red to 1973.

That year I can still recall both my first Grand National (I sobbed buckets as the gallant but spent Australian chaser Crisp was beaten on the line by the fast-finishing and youthful Red Rum) and my first FA Cup Final (I shouted with joy as Second Division Sunderland defied all the odds to defeat "dirty" Leeds United in still one of the biggest shocks in the competition's storied history).

In the September of that same year I began my time in education - some 18 years all told.

And it was in my first class in infants school I nailed my proverbial colours to the Red mast.

Sure, living where I did there were plenty of school pals who opted to be Blue and follow Everton.

But I was more than happy to be a Red.

In those days the stars of the team included goalkeeper Ray Clemence, midfielder Ian Callaghan and striker Kevin Keegan. But as a five-year-old, going on six-year-old schoolboy, my first hero in Red was Emlyn Hughes.

His infectious enthusiasm and ready smile really rubbed off on me and played a big part in my growing affection for the club.

And the following May, I can recall my happiness watching a fist-pumping 'Crazy Horse' accept the celebrated piece of silverware from Princess Anne after skippering the Reds to a 3-0 demolition of Newcastle United in the 1974 FA Cup Final.

Eighteen months later, now aged seven, I made my 'debut' at Anfield, with a seat midway up in the Main Stand. I was one of 37,340 fans on hand for a 1-0 victory over Sheffield United in the First Division. The great Ray Kennedy provided the only goal of the game, netting the winner 12 minutes from time. Strangely enough, I was accompanied to the game by a pair of older Blades supporters who weren't so chatty on the way back home!

From that moment on I always knew Anfield and Liverpool Football Club would play a very important part in my life.

And so it was to prove.

As I grew older I began to attend more and more matches, first with my Dad including some classic games such as the 4-0 win over Alex Ferguson's Aberdeen in the European Cup in November, 1980 and the 6-0 thrashing of Luton Town in October, 1983 when Ian Rush bagged five goals - including a brilliant volley at The Kop End that only those in attendance ever saw due to the absence of TV cameras - and Kenny Dalglish the other, while future Red Paul Walsh shone bright for the Hatters.

Later, of course, I began to attend games with my mates, standing on The Kop. My 'spec' was usually halfway up on the Main Stand side of that extraordinary terrace.

I was there for some amazing highs (Jan Molby's double to see off Manchester United in the Milk Cup in November, 1985) and some awful lows ("...it's up for grabs now!...").

I also began to follow my team away from Anfield and, as many of you know, was one of the very lucky ones on April 15, 1989.

Into the 1990s I began to take a seat in the Anfield stands and was in the old Kemlyn Road Stand when just 23,094 of us roared the Reds to a famous 3-0 win over Auxerre, overturning a 2-0 first-leg deficit in the second round of the UEFA Cup.

Due to work commitments, my opportunities to see the Reds live diminished during that decade and I was only able to make sporadic returns to the stadium. One such game I'll always remember was in April, 1997, when, on a rare occasion I had a seat in the Anfield Road End, I saw Liverpool just fall short against Paris St-Germain, beating the French side 2-0 on the night only to exit the European Cup-Winners' Cup at the last-four stage, 3-2 on aggregate.

After the turn of the millennium, my life changed domestically. Now married and with two young children, attending games at Anfield became much more difficult, especially when the prices began to sky-rocket. Nevertheless, the love I had for my club never wavered and I was a thrilled as any Reds fan who was fortunate to see first hand those epic wins that secured five pieces of silverware in 2001, the wonderful Worthington Cup Final triumph over Manchester United in 2003, the famous Olympiacos game in December, 2004 and the nerve-shredding Champions League semi-final victory over Chelsea the following spring.

And, of course, May 25, 2005, AC Milan and Istanbul.

I have made some trips back to Anfield but they are few and far between these days. Thankfully, my eldest son has been able to attend some games, most notably in March, 2016, when a Daniel Sturridge penalty and instinctive close-range finish from Roberto Firmino famously got the better of Manchester United in a last-16 clash in the Europa League.

And so we now arrive at June 1, 2019.

As I write, my nerves are really kicking-in over this evening's game in Madrid.

After what happened in Kiev a little over 12 months ago, I can barely imagine losing two European Cup Finals in succession. But of course, it could.

This is sport. Anything could happen in the Spanish capital. It isn't scripted.

Naturally I want my team to triumph - I'll take an own goal in a drab encounter so long as Jordan Henderson lifts 'Old Big Ears' for a sixth time in the club's illustrious history.

But however the match pans out and even if we just fall short on the night, I will still love my club.

For whatever happens, this love affair I have with Liverpool Football Club I will continue until my final day on God's earth.






Sunday 14 October 2018

Another Night To Remember

VETERAN folk-punk rockers The Men They Couldn't Hang dropped into Liverpool on Saturday night for another date with 'Rawhides' from the city and beyond.

The band have been showcasing  their heady mix of cathartic anthems and poignantly-crafted ballads for almost 35 years having played their first official gig in London way back in the Easter of 1984.

I've lost count the number of occasions I've seen them live - my debut was at the old Haigh Building at Liverpool Polytechnic (yes, that's where it was and what it was called then) way back in March, 1987. Just the 31 years ago, then!

At that stage of their story they already had two great albums safely stashed in their discography while arguably their finest was just peeping over the horizon.

Fast forward to 2018 and they now have no less than 20 LPs to their name including this year's offering, Cock-A-Hoop, from which a few shining gems were plucked for this concert at a warm O2 Academy in front of an enthusiastic group of fans.

To take the title from a song they played from their 1985 debut LP Night Of A Thousand Candles, it really was A Night To Remember.

Opening with Gold Rush from 1986's How Green Is The Valley long player, a homage to the workers on the North Sea oil rigs, the band were on point throughout.

Lead singers Phil 'Swill' Odgers and Stefan Cush were really enjoying the occasion and that was clear to see with their great banter with the fans in between their outstanding delivery of the songs.

There were many highlights, not least Going Back To Coventry, Bounty Hunter, The Colours, Ironmasters and Shirt Of Blue.

And anyone who knows the band's politics would know where their allegiances firmly lie - spoiler alert: certainly not in the Conservative camp.

This was observed best in the magnificent Ghosts Of Cable Street which the band's chief writer, Paul Simmonds, penned as a tribute to those from the left who stood up and faced down the British Union of Fascists when they attempted to march through the East End of London one Sunday in October, 1936. The event, of course, became known as 'The Battle Of Cable Street'.

The gig was rounded off by the band's debut single, a cover of Eric Bogle's magnificently moving The Green Fields Of France (No Man's Land) which made the top three of legendary Merseyside-born DJ John Peel's Festive 50 back in 1985. Drummer Jon Odgers's playing here was especially powerful. This was followed by the joyous Walkin' Talkin' which always raises smiles when it's played live.

And as all the fans made their way into the Liverpool night, the smiles were very much in evidence as the band had regally entertained their loyal followers once again. Rawhides everywhere will be hoping this will be the case for a long time to come.

Saturday 26 May 2018

Ukraine on a parade...

SO, there will be no parade this year.

Plans will now change for Sunday.

And the scarves, shirts and banners will be put away for use on another day.

Such has been the way for us Liverpool supporters since the spring of 2012.

Four finals after Kenny Dalglish guided the Reds to the League Cup triumph over Cardiff City, it's been a collective tale of misery - with now a full set of cup losses to lament.

FA Cup, League Cup, Europa League and now Champions League.

I'm getting an inkling of what it must have been like to have been a Buffalo Bills fan a quarter of a century ago - just look up their Super Bowl heartbreakers if you don't believe me.

So, what can be said about this latest tale of woe?

The writing, perhaps, was on the wall once our wonderfully-talented talisman, Mohamed Salah, was cruelly forced out of the game due to a nasty shoulder injury he sustained in the opening half.

Only Real Madrid skipper Sergio Ramos will know deep down whether he meant his challenge to inflict serious damage on the Liverpool forward, but the Spaniard has a chequered history when it comes to dealing with talented players he knows will beat him for skill all day long.

His collection of Champions League yellow cards - a record 35 - is a testimony to that fact.

So when Salah tearfully left proceedings and Reds manager Jurgen Klopp was forced into making a change he certainly hadn't anticipated at such an early stage of the contest, it was always going to be a difficult night from that point onwards.

To be fair, though, the Reds were largely holding their own and a goalless scoreline after 45 minutes was both welcome and somewhat unexpected.

Then came the second 45 minutes.

In many ways it summed up this extraordinary journey all Liverpool supporters are having under Klopp.

From the low of seeing goalkeeper Loris Karius gift Real's opener to Karim Benzema to the high of witnessing Sadio Mane finish off a brilliant corner-kick routine honed to perfection on the training ground at Melwood to being on the wrong end of a truly astonishing strike from Gareth Bale to watching the Reds' number one make another miscue and more or less hand-deliver a third and ultimately killer goal to the Spaniards seven minutes from time.

This was a half of football that will always be remembered - but for the wrong reasons.

The pain of the defeat is still raw and the cold light of day has yet to dawn.

But even at this very early stage it's difficult to see how Karius will retain his position of Liverpool's first-choice goalkeeper - and maybe even a place at Anfield.

The first decision might be understandable, especially if the Reds are able to acquire a truly top-notch goalkeeper who has more years at the highest level of the game under his belt; the second decision leaves something of a dilemma.

Every player in the history of football - and indeed all sports - has committed errors.

It's all part of being human.

But it's almost always the last line of defence in team sports who suffer the most if they happen to make a mistake.

And so it proved in Kiev - twice.

One thing is for certain, Karius will really know who his true friends are after his personal nightmare.

And he will absolutely need them right now.

I hope the young German player will recover from this - but he'll need plenty of support from those closest to him.

He certainly shouldn't be made a scapegoat - football, after all, is a team game.

You win together; you draw together; you lose together.

That's the very nature of a team sport.

So where to next for Liverpool Football Club?

As miserable as us fans are feeling once again when the fates conspired to ensure there was not going to be Number Six, I'm confident the club is heading in a very positive direction.

Yes, it's not a straight and smooth road - this is the rollercoaster we all knew we were going to ride once this extraordinary and charismatic 50-year-old German became the club's manager in the autumn of 2015.

But there will be more ups than downs, I have absolutely no doubt about that.

This is a young Liverpool team that is really starting to gel as a fearsome unit who can rip opposition apart on more occasions than not. Reinforcements are predicted to arrive in the summer to improve the depth and quality of the squad, so with a fair wind and decent fortune that all clubs require at some stage in their season, this time next year there will likely be fresh silverware to polish at Anfield.

Indeed, winning the Champions League in Madrid come the spring of 2019 might just be the perfect place to exorcise these demons we are bedevilled with just now.

And as the magnificent Allez Allez Allez song so rightly puts it: "We're NEVER gonna stop!"




Wednesday 11 October 2017

Battle Lines Are Now Drawn

WE all thought 2016 was a dreadful year.

Bookended by the death of the great David Bowie in the January and the confirmation that the not-so-great Donald Trump would be the 45th President of the United States before the 12 months was out, it was a year to remember - but not for particularly good reasons.

But now, as I write this latest blog, near halfway into the 10th month of 2017, 2016 seems not no bad after all - in comparison with what has followed.

Anyone with an ounce of common sense and decency knew that the Trump Presidency was going to be bad.

Perhaps none of us really knew that within 10 months of him making his first address at President, his Presidency would be the most appalling, divisive, nightmarish, disgusting and unwanted in the years since the country first declared its independence from the British Empire 241 years ago.

And that includes the embarrassments brought about by the corrupt Richard Nixon, for starters.

Throughout 2017, Trump has lurched from one incident to another - and found to be wanting.

Not only that, however, he has gradually shown his true colours to reveal the dangerous despot he really is.

In the days when he was a 'reality' TV star presenting The Apprentice, he was largely kept under control when issuing the order "You're fired!" was simply an amusing catchphrase.

Now, you might say I'm overreacting, but I now have real concerns that those exact words would be happily repeated as he gives the command to launch missiles - whether conventional or nuclear - on any enemy he cares. And I'm not just referring to North Korea here.

Yes, North Korea has provided him the perfect ammunition he has wanted - they too have a crazy dictator in charge and my fear is they will act first giving Trump the excuse he wants to pounce and set about launching a military campaign he so clearly craves.

Trump can certainly claim to be the first President of the Divided States since those dreadful days of the American Civil War in the 1860s.

He has been nothing but divisive in his words and actions since he first entered the White House - and God knows, so many of us wish he had not.

Little could I have imagined, for example, that the Commander-in-Chief would have picked a conflict with one of the country's biggest institutions - the National Football League.

But then, it's all part of his master-plan - to divide, and conquer his enemies.

That's how despots operate.

There seems to be plenty of stuff Trump would prefer not to come to light, starting with what the Russians have on him exactly. My guess is a tome that would rival War And Peace - and its sequel had Leo Tolstoy ever got around to penning one.

So therefore he deflects issues elsewhere, a diversionary tactic people like him are only too clever at.

And in the end, we're left with a situation where battle lines have been drawn - and very distinctive they are too.

And I don't mean political left and political right.

I mean simply right and wrong.

What we are all seeing for ourselves here, in our own precious lifetime, is a man who should be nowhere near the great and noble office of President of the United States of America, let alone be a man who has the codes to launch nuclear weapons and bring about Armageddon and the end of our treasured Planet Earth.

Some people reading this might say I'm going too far - he would never do that. But I'm only going on the evidence thus far, and it's not good at all.

I am really fearful for the immediate future, because if things spark into something dreadful on the Korean Peninsula, there's every chance that engagement will not be restricted to what happens to the two nations and the millions of people who happen to live north and south of the 38th Parallel.

I wish I knew what the answer is to solve all of our problems, starting with Trump, but I simply don't.

Maybe these are the end of days we're living through now, but don't know it.

Maybe this is what the Book of Revelation is all about, I don't know.

But I hope and I pray all the time that good will prevail and that evil will be defeated - it's something I have always ascribed to, and always will.

And I guess it's that hope and those prayers that is helping me right now - because this is a battle we cannot afford to lose - for the sake of our own priceless lives and our great and wonderful planet, the only one we know for certain has life in the universe.




Tuesday 31 January 2017

Time to talk politics...

POLITICS...

In all my years - now exceeding three decades - of having an interest in politics I have never experienced a period we are going through right now.

And I daresay that goes for pretty much all of you reading this.

As I write this blog late on the evening of the final day of January, 2017, I can honestly say I have never been more concerned about the future of our planet than I do right now.

If things weren't bad enough in my own country with the decision to start Article 50 and leave the European Union - akin to pointing a loaded revolver at your own foot and pulling the trigger and then failing to understand your crippling wound - the situation over in the United States of America is even more disconcerting to me, in the short term at least.

Many of us were rightly concerned about Donald Trump winning the nomination to become the Republican Party's choice to be the 45th President.

And when he went on and actually claim success in November's election via the clearly outdated Electoral College system, our concern was quickly transformed into fear.

And given the first 11 days of Trump's Presidency, those fears have been more than realised.

The tremendous American filmmaker Michael Moore has said there is a coup d'état taking place across the 50 states http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/donald-trump-michael-moore-coup-us-steve-bannon-sally-yates-rule-of-law-a7554556.html and he is spot-on.

Make no mistake about this fact too. Trump might be the figurehead but the real power behind the throne is his senior counsellor Steve Bannon.

The appalling Bannon has more than the President's ear. This fascist - because, frankly, that's what he is - is pulling the President's strings. And anyone with any intelligence can clearly see the puppeteer at work over the past week or so.

The extreme right-wing policies implemented by Trump as 'Executive Orders' have Bannon's telltale fingerprints all over them.

I have no doubt in my mind that Bannon and his appalling ilk are desperate to provoke Islamic fundamentalists into an outright war. Absolutely no doubt whatsoever.

The decision to ban travellers entering the United States from seven Muslim-majority nations was clearly meant as a proverbial slap in the face in the hope of triggering a response.

It's already been pointed out that countries with a Muslim-majority population such as Saudi Arabia that were not on Trump's list might have had something to do with the fact the President has substantial financial interests in that nation. Yet, for example, everyone knows that 15 of the 19 hijackers involved in the 9/11 terrorist attacks of 2001 were Saudi Arabian nationals...

Now should Muslim extremists not take the proverbial bait being offered by Trump/Bannon, I am absolutely certain a 'Reichstag Fire' incident will happen in the United States or in a place of American interest in the not-too-distant future.

If you know your history, this is the MO of the extreme right. They have done it before and they will definitely do it again.

Added to all of this, the firing of acting US Attorney General Sally Yates late on Monday evening was another clear example of the sort of extremist regime that has taken the reins in the United States.

I have followed politics in the United States for many years, and with a degree in American Studies feel more than qualified to pass judgement on what I, and the rest of us, are witnessing right now.

These are incredibly disturbing times and I'd love to think a peaceful outcome to all of this is on the horizon.

But I honestly cannot see that.

It's up to us decent people to keep up the protests and ensure the searchlight stays shining with a blinding full beam on the regime in Washington and call it out for what it is.

The mainstream media might refer to it as "populist" and remind us all that Trump was "democratically elected" and is "leader of the Free World" - but all that just sticks in my craw.

You certainly have to be aware of the way the mainstream media will normalise what is actually taking place.

Believe me, by any stretch of the imagination, it ISN'T normal.

All I can picture right now is a bleak future under this new Government in the United States.

And if you throw in the darkly disturbing figure of Vladimir Putin into the mix and the Brexit decision in this country, 2017 and the immediate years ahead don't look good at all for decent people the world over.

It's an awful time right now - and it's more than likely to get much, much worse.

All I can say is just hold your loved ones close to you and all the things you know to be right and true, keep fighting injustice wherever you see it and know that goodness will prevail in the end.

Because for the sake of the planet, it absolutely must.

Wednesday 30 November 2016

So this is Christmas...

YES, that most extraordinary time of the year has arrived once again.

Twelve months on from Yuletide 2015 when a word like 'Brexit' wasn't in the lexicon and the mere thought of 'President Elect Trump' was simply too ridiculous to imagine, that's where we're at as 2016 enters its final few weeks.

Personally, I've never known a year quite like 2016.

I think it was someone on Twitter who said that things all started to go awry when the great David Bowie shuffled off his mortal coil before the New Year was barely a fortnight old.

Bowie, according to the Tweeter, was the glue that held the universe together. And since he wasn't around any more, well...

Now I'm not going to put everything down to the very sad passing of that remarkable musician, but that claim is tough to argue against.

And if you throw in the departures of such people as Prince, Muhammad Ali and Leonard Cohen to name just a legendary trio, it's been one hell of a 12 months witnessing the great and the good pass away.

Back in the summer, a week before the European Union Referendum, I wrote about how there was a war raging between Love and Hate: http://snowypadres.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/two-four-letter-words.html

Six months later, that conflict is still going on - and in many ways has really intensified in the period since I penned that blog.

Britain - or should I say, certain parts of Britain - voted, just, to leave the European Union while over in the United States, despite not winning the 'popular vote' by quite a fair number, the dreadful Donald Trump is set to become the 45th American President early in 2017.

Meanwhile, real war is still raging in Syria with a peace settlement to a conflict that has being going on for more years than the Second World War still a distant dream.

The rise of the extreme right-wing is absolutely upon us and our nearest European neighbour, France, may be a matter of months away from electing a fascist president in the shape of Marine Le Pen - truly unbelievable for a nation that fought and died battling such an odious regime in the 1940s.

For anyone who knows me, December has always been my most favourite month of the year.

I absolutely love all that goes with it - the overall chaos, the parties, the family get-togethers, the food, the drink, the presents, the music, the films, the television, the sport. Everything.

I also love hearing again at Mass at Christmas that special story of the very first Christmas, now more than 2,000 years old.

The tale is only told in two of the Gospels - Matthew and Luke. And both accounts were penned for different audiences.

In St Matthew's version, the focus is on the visit of the wise men from the East while St Luke homes in on the message of the angels to the poorest of all of Palestine's workers, the shepherds in the fields.

And it's Luke's Gospel that has been a constant with me over the years.

As wonderfully astute as the wise men undoubtedly were and as great a carol as We Three Kings really is, the first line in The First Nowell is just so incredibly powerful:

"The first Nowell the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay."


In other words, the Son of God's priority was for the poorest of them all.

And it makes you wonder what He would think of our world right now nearly 2,017 years after He was living among the people in Roman-occupied Galilee and Judea.

There just seems to be hatred and heartlessness everywhere you turn, with the poorest and weakest amongst us suffering most of all. And as things stand, it's difficult to see things getting any better.

When the first chimes of the New Year ring in, universally we always hope for a better 12 months ahead than the one we've just experienced.

In lots of ways, that will be the case more than ever come the opening seconds of January 1, 2017.

Yes, I'd truly love to think 2017 actually will be a better one than the one that's gone before it, but the way things are I have serious doubts.

All I'm hoping for right now as I write this at the start of the final month of 2016 is that you all have a happy and peaceful end to the year and that Christmas is one to remember for all the good reasons that this great and wondrous season can bring to you and your families.

And when the calendar does flip over into 2017, we must all stand together, united against hatred and division and bitterness - and confront it whenever and wherever we see it.

I'd like to think we've come a long way since we lived in caves and went out in search of killing woolly mammoths for our evening meals.

But sometimes I truly wonder about that...