Monday, May 12, 2025
Blog Page 1789

Postgrad jogger mistaken for terrorist

Nupur Takwale
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Postgrad jogger mistaken for terrorist

An Iranian PhD student was stopped by the police on Monday afternoon as he underwent his daily exercise routine of walking with a weight vest, after they received a call from a member of the public. 

Goudarz Kamiri, who studies physiology, anatomy and genetics at University College, had been doing his regular morning walk down Southfield Road,  when he was forced to halt near the O2 Academy.

“The police officer said to me, ‘stop, stop’, and it was a few seconds before I realised he was actually talking to me. I was told to put my hands in the air and drop whatever was in my hands.”

The police officer, himself wearing a police vest, began examining Kamiri, requiring his help in taking off the 30kg vest.

“He asked me whether I knew what this looked like – “somebody with my appearance” wearing the vest – and I didn’t even really know what he meant: was it my skin colour?”

Kamiri spoke to Cherwell yesterday evening, commenting, “The fact that when it became obvious that I was not a terrorist, they still wanted to check everything and insisted on taking my details, bothered me a lot.”

He was indignant at the response of the police, which was to tell him not to wear the vest again. He commented, “This route is convenient for me – why should I change just because people are paranoid?”

“After my huge discussion with the two police officers I kept going with my training. Walking past them a second time in their car they told me, “Why don’t you just call it a day?” and demanded that I take off my vest again. I said no – it was heavy, I didn’t want to walk with it in my hand. Eventually I put my jacket over it, and still they were not completely satisfied.”

Kamiri contacted the Oxford Mail to tell his story, saying, “I wished that what they [the police] had done was once they realised I was no terrorist was go back to the people who called and explained that to them.”

“I did it partly to let those people know that there was no need to have been suspicious and also to make the point that we seem to be living in a society where people are paranoid. There is so much fear and anxiety, and the only way to take it away is through communicating. Just because someone looks Middle Eastern does not mean he or she is a terrorist, and it is the terrorists who want to induce such fear in society.”

When asked if he had any sympathy with the police’s point of view, he conceded, “I understand police have to go check but once they realise their mistake why go further? That is what is wrong.”

Since the article, Kamiri has been getting numerous calls from various organisations desiring to speak with him. He said, “The reaction was pretty much expected … the focus on the police, the word ‘terrorist’ and the Middle Eastern appearance.”

He stressed that he did not mean this to happen. “A lot of the reports of the incident that are out there make it seem like I am playing the race card. That was never my intention. There have been comments saying I am stupid – some people saying that these vests should be illegal. But I feel like it is not about the vests and it is not about my race – it is about the anxiety and fear in society. That is what is crazy for me.”

Superintendent Amanda Pearson, police commander for Oxford said, â€¨â€¨“Due to the nature of the call received, the control room enquired as to whether any armed response units were nearby. As one was in Oxford, officers from the unit were sent to the incident and spoke to the gentleman concerned.”

“While I appreciate that in this case being stopped and checked by the officers may have been unsettling to the gentlemen concerned, the officers were responding to a call from a member of the public who had a genuine concern and police are duty bound to investigate any calls of this nature to ensure public safety.”

Rioters’ delight

Rachel Coombes
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Rioters’ delight

It was with a growing sense of unease that I followed How Hip Hop Changed the World on Channel 4, a programme broadcast over the summer which charted – in a somewhat disorderly and arbitrary fashion – the ‘top fifty ways’ in which hip hop culture has become an entrenched presence in societies across the globe over the past couple of decades. In the aftermath of the violent chaos that hit UK cities in August, one felt almost guilty watching rap videos that glorified gang violence, especially those that placed so much emphasis on the flaunting of wealth and material possessions.

Most of us are aware that rap music, and the hip hopculture behind it, emerged as a vehicle of protest for America’s troubled youth back in the 1970s. Even those who are not so aware can find in the urgent, gabbled, verbal torrent of, say, ‘Ready to Die‘ by Notorious B.I.G., an anger and frustration that can, by implication, be associated with deprivation and a lack of direction. Today, it appears that the rap music of ‘gangsta’ culture has seduced some of the young in our cities, who have adopted it as a symbolic gesture of rebellion against the more ‘privileged’ circles of society, from which they feel detached and excluded. 

The appeal of rap music, as opposed to sung music, can be explained by several factors: not only is the spoken word (especially when projected aggressively over a driving beat), far more effective in conveying a direct – although often oversimplified – message to the musically untrained, it is also an idiom available to everyone. In another of Channel 4’s recent explorations of this theme, Life of Rhyme, the veteran MC Akala praises the art of rapping as a form of poetry, which can both unite and educate.

It may be that hip hop can have a positive effect on deprived communities, promoting a sense of community identity, and providing an outlet for the ‘off-loading’ of difficult feelings. But it may also be the case that many of today’s youth are simply drawn by the shallow allure of unearned self-importance and power that this ‘poetry’ promotes. Rapping can become a game of respect, and often celebrates intimidation, swaggering self-confidence, and ‘being the best’. In How Hip Hop Changed the World, Dappy from N-Dubz reveals his first reaction on hearing a song by 30-strong hip hop posse So Solid Crew: ‘When that came out … I wanted to be an MC. I wanted to be famous. I wanted to have girls, and people screaming my lyrics’. Of course, many of us naively yearn for fame when we are young, but it is another matter for young people to be duped by the glamour of unearned fame – or notoriety – into following the example of those dandified thugs who have fulfilled their own desire to ‘get noticed’.

Here we return to the dominant ‘message’ of much hip hop: what lies at the heart of the genre, beneath its images of street warfare and boasts about wealth and drug-taking, is self-aggrandizement. Children, materially or culturally impoverished, and habituated to this raw, aggressive music, may read in it the answer to a successful life: a code of moral inversion embedded in the hip hop lyric implies that ‘status’, being the ultimate aspiration, can be acquired only through material wealth.

These kids are all too aware of their misfortune and impoverishment, but they might take comfort from wallowing in the sound-world of similarly disengaged youth, who provide encouragement to scorn authority, and take what they want – or are brainwashed into wanting. David Starkey’s condemnation of UK ‘gangsta’ culture on Newsnight provoked outrage and widespread accusations of racism, but – even if his views were expressed tactlessly – he was above all addressing a more general condition of cultural ill-health in today’s society, not singling out or stigmatising any particular ethnic group.

Too many of these ‘gangsta’ songs obsess about the miseries and inequity within society; some of our inner-city youths, identifying with the sentiments in these songs, may feel justified in lashing out against those who have more than they do. One of the tragedies of the August riots was that, in some cases, the victims of violence and arson had no more, often less, materially, than the attackers themselves.  

Poverty became an excuse for the young looters: complaints about deprivation fell – or should have fallen – on deaf ears, as rioters bagged iPhones, designer t-shirts, trainers and jeans, and flat-screen televisions. These young adults were starving – not for food, but for status symbols and luxury goods. The proceedings became a race for respect – a form of respect engendered by their immersion in a culture that brags about money, and endorses the assumption that having what you think you want is the answer to both happiness and success. The lyrics of 50 Cent’s ‘I Get Money‘ ring true: ‘I was young, I couldn’t do good, Now I can’t do bad; I ride, wreck the new Jag, I just buy the new Jag. Now nigga why you mad? Oh, you can’t do that.’

Can we wonder that our inner-city youth, brought up with few aspirations, negligible education, and little prospect of employment, fantasize about a ‘happier’ life where success consists of little more than having the ‘right’ things, and proving oneself to be better than one’s neighbour through intimidation and braggadocio? And when our culture as a whole supports and promotes such deluded beliefs, condoning and encouraging youth’s untrammelled right to self-expression and ‘independence’, what can be done?

According to Idris Elba, the presenter of How Hip Hop Changed the World, the summit of hip hop’s rise to power was Obama’s announcement to America of his love for Jay-Z’s music. This was surely not just a gesture of racial solidarity, but also an expression of the governing class’s desperate desire to get ‘down with’ the youth and to earn their respect. We see something similar in Britain today: Cameron may have lamely condemned excessive radio coverage of violent rap music, but it is clear that many years of official non-judgementalism in social policy and education has allowed a culture of crude materialism to dominate certain sectors of society. Moreover, in view of the seemingly continuous decay of morality not only within establishment circles (exemplified by, for example, the MPs’ expenses scandal of 2009), but also among the more privileged in society – including university students – where would these underprivileged young people find moral guidance, were they disposed to seek it? 

Cherwell Sport goes caving

Vicky Lim
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Cherwell Sport goes caving

 

When I began my time at Oxford, I saw myself punting down the Isis in glorious sunshine, playing croquet while enjoying Pimm’s on immaculate lawns, and, of course, whiling away hours in grandiose libraries. What I didn’t picture was spending two or three weekends a term grubbing around in dark wet holes wearing what is best described as a heavy-duty boiler suit. No, student debts haven’t reduced me to sewage maintenance work (yet): I’ve taken up caving.
Not being a particularly co-ordinated person, sports were not high on my list of priorities at the Fresher’s Fair. Nonetheless, when a guy wearing a helmet and headlamp brandishing pictures of stalactites and subterranean waterfalls and waxing lyrical on the “underground adventure playground” that is a cave, I got hooked. My first weekend with Oxford University Caving Club (OUCC) was a trip to South Wales at the end of second week. We gathered at the caving hut, each decked out with a bizarre combination of equipment (wellies, washing up gloves, a fleece onesie, a heavy-duty onesie, a belt, etc) and piled into a minibus to go.
The caves were epic: in one sense vast but with miniscule squeezes you had to wriggle on your belly to get through, full of steep climbs with jagged footholds you could just about stick your foot on, and littered with boulder strewn passages where scrambling on knees or sliding on bums was required to make progress.  Beautiful rock formations, seen by fewer than a hundred people in the world ever, clung to the walls and thunderous waterfalls crashed past your ears. 
Yes, caving is mostly dark, sometimes a bit tight, usually cold and wet, not at all competitive, and often leaves you spending a lot of time staring at the butt of the guy in front, but it’s also incredibly exciting. It’s not to most people’s taste and in fact most people shudder at the thought of launching themselves into a small damp hole, but for me, every cave is an adventure. Underground is one of the few frontiers on Earth that still has potential for exploration, and it blows my mind that every year cavers stumble across cathedral-sized caverns, bottomless shafts, and fossilised passages previously unseen by any man.
Caving is an unusual sport, but for unusual people like me, it’s perfect.
I’ve done the punting, the croquet, even a little work, and I do love it all, but caving is the one thing I can’t imagine university life without. While not what I looked for at Fresher’s Fair, I’m glad I found caving, because ironically for a sport which mostly involves going down, it gives me a high I can’t find anywhere else.

When I began my time at Oxford, I saw myself punting down the Isis in glorious sunshine, playing croquet while enjoying Pimm’s on immaculate lawns, and, of course, whiling away hours in grandiose libraries. What I didn’t picture was spending two or three weekends a term grubbing around in dark wet holes wearing what is best described as a heavy-duty boiler suit. No, student debts haven’t reduced me to sewage maintenance work (yet): I’ve taken up caving.

Not being a particularly co-ordinated person, sports were not high on my list of priorities at the Fresher’s Fair. Nonetheless, when a guy wearing a helmet and headlamp brandishing pictures of stalactites and subterranean waterfalls and waxing lyrical on the “underground adventure playground” that is a cave, I got hooked. My first weekend with Oxford University Caving Club (OUCC) was a trip to South Wales at the end of second week. We gathered at the caving hut, each decked out with a bizarre combination of equipment (wellies, washing up gloves, a fleece onesie, a heavy-duty onesie, a belt, etc) and piled into a minibus to go.

The caves were epic: in one sense vast but with miniscule squeezes you had to wriggle on your belly to get through, full of steep climbs with jagged footholds you could just about stick your foot on, and littered with boulder strewn passages where scrambling on knees or sliding on bums was required to make progress.  Beautiful rock formations, seen by fewer than a hundred people in the world ever, clung to the walls and thunderous waterfalls crashed past your ears. 

Yes, caving is mostly dark, sometimes a bit tight, usually cold and wet, not at all competitive, and often leaves you spending a lot of time staring at the butt of the guy in front, but it’s also incredibly exciting. It’s not to most people’s taste and in fact most people shudder at the thought of launching themselves into a small damp hole, but for me, every cave is an adventure. Underground is one of the few frontiers on Earth that still has potential for exploration, and it blows my mind that every year cavers stumble across cathedral-sized caverns, bottomless shafts, and fossilised passages previously unseen by any man.

Caving is an unusual sport, but for unusual people like me, it’s perfect.I’ve done the punting, the croquet, even a little work, and I do love it all, but caving is the one thing I can’t imagine university life without. While not what I looked for at Fresher’s Fair, I’m glad I found caving, because ironically for a sport which mostly involves going down, it gives me a high I can’t find anywhere else.

 

Is rowing worth it?

Tim Schneider
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Is rowing worth it?

Proposition, Tim Schneider

 

As I haven’t spent the majority of my adolescent to adult life mechanically working out in anonymous gyms where walls are stained by sweat, despair and self-loathing, I will tread carefully.  Rowers, as they so insistently tell us, are “bloody massive”, so I will measure my words against the constant threat of physical danger.
I’m not going to mention, for example, that rowers’ obsession with the perfect ‘erg’ score or with the flawless bicep probably masks a much deeper psychological insecurity. I certainly won’t say that the all-consuming nature of rowing renders most barely sentient and, with their talk of “PBs” and recovery time, upsettingly boring. I just won’t. The risk is too great.
What I will say is that rowing is certainly a spectacle. I defy anyone to walk past a fogged up gym unamused where a dozen guys, lycra round their waists and a boombox blaring, shout unimaginative platitudes that (for the infantile minded) lend themselves to innuendo. “Come on, John, you can do it!”; “You gotta want it!”; “Don’t put that in there, you’re doing it wrong” and the obligatory screams of “Yes! Yes!”  For me, a non-participant, it’s certainly a fruitful use of time – an entertaining prop; for them, it’s just a guy laughing at the window.
In exchange for this glamour, rowing requires the kind of sacrifice usually demanded by cults or the Manson Family. 
Not only must you pay for the privilege of dressing in full body lycra but you must also be grateful when the “coach” unloads a disproportionate amount of anger on you for failing to “tug” right (the terminology here may not be exactly right). 
What rowing steals the most, though, is time. It robs time like a crew date robs all of their hope for humanity. It’s a time-bandit, a pickpocket of minutes, a seconds thief.
And it’s not very discriminating – all who sign up are subjected to the customary 6am starts and 9pm finishes irrespective of talent or interest. Instead of working, socialising or (whisper it) sleeping, the impressionable are caught up in the rowing machine; a machine that depends on a large expanse of water nearby, thousands of pounds worth of equipment and unerring physical commitment.
For all that effort, what are rowers faced with? Poorly-informed derision. It’s just not worth it.

As I haven’t spent the majority of my adolescent to adult life mechanically working out in anonymous gyms where walls are stained by sweat, despair and self-loathing, I will tread carefully.  Rowers, as they so insistently tell us, are “bloody massive”, so I will measure my words against the constant threat of physical danger.

I’m not going to mention, for example, that rowers’ obsession with the perfect ‘erg’ score or with the flawless bicep probably masks a much deeper psychological insecurity. I certainly won’t say that the all-consuming nature of rowing renders most barely sentient and, with their talk of “PBs” and recovery time, upsettingly boring. I just won’t. The risk is too great.

What I will say is that rowing is certainly a spectacle. I defy anyone to walk past a fogged up gym unamused where a dozen guys, lycra round their waists and a boombox blaring, shout unimaginative platitudes that (for the infantile minded) lend themselves to innuendo. “Come on, John, you can do it!”; “You gotta want it!”; “Don’t put that in there, you’re doing it wrong” and the obligatory screams of “Yes! Yes!”  For me, a non-participant, it’s certainly a fruitful use of time – an entertaining prop; for them, it’s just a guy laughing at the window.

In exchange for this glamour, rowing requires the kind of sacrifice usually demanded by cults or the Manson Family. 

Not only must you pay for the privilege of dressing in full body lycra but you must also be grateful when the “coach” unloads a disproportionate amount of anger on you for failing to “tug” right (the terminology here may not be exactly right). 

What rowing steals the most, though, is time. It robs time like a crew date robs all of their hope for humanity. It’s a time-bandit, a pickpocket of minutes, a seconds thief.And it’s not very discriminating – all who sign up are subjected to the customary 6am starts and 9pm finishes irrespective of talent or interest. Instead of working, socialising or (whisper it) sleeping, the impressionable are caught up in the rowing machine; a machine that depends on a large expanse of water nearby, thousands of pounds worth of equipment and unerring physical commitment.

For all that effort, what are rowers faced with? Poorly-informed derision. It’s just not worth it.

 

Opposition, Eddie Rolls

Despite being the most popular sport in Oxford, rowing has surprisingly earned a bad reputation for being a ‘waste of time’. As someone who has rowed for quite a while, I’d completely disagree with this notion. I believe that if Tim were to take a closer look at the subject he is studying at here at Oxford (English) then he would see a true example of a waste of time. Cheap academic digs aside, rowing does have many benefits which outweigh its notoriety for the amount of time you need to put into it.

The most obvious benefit of rowing is the physical fitness it gives you. Not only does doing exercise mean you can eat whatever you like whenever you like without significant weight gain, it also gives you the stamina to last until closing time with enough energy in reserve to wake up for that 9am lecture.

The structure and discipline of rowing also actually supplement everyday life, as opposed to being an obstacle to normality. Up for an early session? Since you are awake you might as well finish that essay you’ve been putting off. Finish that essay early? Might as well go on a crew date. Get laid last night? Thank rowing for sorting your life out.

There is also the competitive element of rowing. The hours put into training do actually have to have some quantifiable end. The pinnacle of this is in Bumps racing for Torpids and Summer Eights. There is something that is primitively stirring in a sport where the sole aim is trying to slam your boat into another boat whilst avoiding that same fate yourself. Perhaps this is what makes rowing so fun. The glory of getting that bump is amazing, whilst the fear of a near miss, or worse being bumped yourself, just makes the moment when you bump the crew in front with 100m to go that much sweeter.

In essence, rowing is a great use of one’s time at university. When people think of Oxford one of the first things that comes to mind is rowing. It is a sport steeped in tradition and has a social side that is often as important as the rowing side. I’m not going to try and claim that rowing is for everyone, but I do think that everyone should give it a go. Who knows where it will take you (other than the Cheese Floor at Park End). You will make great friends along the way, have a great time socially and get to bash your craft into the boats of other colleges. What else would someone want to do with their time?

 

Michaelmas term sport preview

Matt Nicol
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Michaelmas term sport preview

 

Fear not sports fans, after weeks of inactivity over the summer months, Oxford sport (and more importantly Cherwell Sport) is back. This term we will be covering terrain ranging from the snowy slopes of the Alps to the light drizzle of Marston fields. Whether you are a teenage prodigy, Sunday league dynamo or armchair fan we aim to satisfy your sporting yearnings over the next eight weeks. This Michaelmas of sport has something to offer everyone, as for novice and pro alike there are plenty of spectacles to witness or partake in. Here Cherwell Sport picks out just some of the highlights of Oxford’s first term in the sporting arena. 
Rugby players will insist to you that the 8th of December is this term’s sporting pinnacle. On this day England’s home ground of Twickenham – with a capacity of 80,000 and future host of the 2015 Rugby World Cup final – hosts the 129th Varsity Rugby match against Cambridge. This fixture will not just be witnessed by the thousands of Oxbridge students present at Twickenham, but will be broadcast across the nation on Sky Sports. Big hits, knock-ons and inevitable Oxonian dominance will be viewed with the benefits of super slowmo and HD. For Dark and Light Blue alike this is an event not to be missed, setting up bragging rights nicely for the later Varsity contests in football and rowing.
If you fancy something slightly more chilled, at the end of Michaelmas 3000 Oxbridge students will descend on Val Thorens in the French Alps for the 2011 Varsity Ski Trip. The self-described “best end-of-term party in the world” combines a variety of snow sports with the university staples of alcohol and music. Having attracted DJs such as Calvin Harris and Kele Okereke over the last few years it certainly has plenty to live up to. Expect vomit-stained pistes, a variety of garish Primark onesies and maybe even some skiing and snowboarding.
Despite what the Daily Mail would have you believe, the Varsity trip is also home to serious sporting action. It was first held in 1922 in order to host the Blues ski races against Cambridge, whilst (slightly) slower College Cuppers is a recent and hotly contested addition. The core of what has become a social occasion remains decidedly sporting – just make sure you don’t tip off the national press about the “debauched challenges” that may or may not be taking place this year after the egg-smashing controversy of the 2010 trip. 
An encounter with rowing seems to be unavoidable during your time in Oxford, and in 7th week the Isis hosts the Christ Church Regatta, a competition specifically held for those completely new to the sport. Within just a couple of weeks many unsuspecting freshers will have undergone dramatic conversion from wide-eyed innocence into lycra-clad determination. For those who choose this path no sacrifice is to great in the cause of victory, and limbs will probably be lost to frostbite as novice crews battle it out to hit the water first on a sub-zero November morning at 6am.
Unlike “Bumps” racing later in the year the Christ Church regatta is a head-to-head knockout competition as crews battle it out blade-on-blade with their opposition. This, when coupled with the fact that only novice coxes are allowed to be put in charge of the steering, results in understandable carnage, as a brief YouTube search will confirm. If the wind and

Fear not sports fans, after weeks of inactivity over the summer months, Oxford sport (and more importantly Cherwell Sport) is back. This term we will be covering terrain ranging from the snowy slopes of the Alps to the light drizzle of Marston fields. Whether you are a teenage prodigy, Sunday league dynamo or armchair fan we aim to satisfy your sporting yearnings over the next eight weeks. This Michaelmas of sport has something to offer everyone, as for novice and pro alike there are plenty of spectacles to witness or partake in. Here Cherwell Sport picks out just some of the highlights of Oxford’s first term in the sporting arena. 

Rugby players will insist to you that the 8th of December is this term’s sporting pinnacle. On this day England’s home ground of Twickenham – with a capacity of 80,000 and future host of the 2015 Rugby World Cup final – hosts the 129th Varsity Rugby match against Cambridge. This fixture will not just be witnessed by the thousands of Oxbridge students present at Twickenham, but will be broadcast across the nation on Sky Sports. Big hits, knock-ons and inevitable Oxonian dominance will be viewed with the benefits of super slowmo and HD. For Dark and Light Blue alike this is an event not to be missed, setting up bragging rights nicely for the later Varsity contests in football and rowing.

If you fancy something slightly more chilled, at the end of Michaelmas 3000 Oxbridge students will descend on Val Thorens in the French Alps for the 2011 Varsity Ski Trip. The self-described “best end-of-term party in the world” combines a variety of snow sports with the university staples of alcohol and music. Having attracted DJs such as Calvin Harris and Kele Okereke over the last few years it certainly has plenty to live up to. Expect vomit-stained pistes, a variety of garish Primark onesies and maybe even some skiing and snowboarding.

Despite what the Daily Mail would have you believe, the Varsity trip is also home to serious sporting action. It was first held in 1922 in order to host the Blues ski races against Cambridge, whilst (slightly) slower College Cuppers is a recent and hotly contested addition. The core of what has become a social occasion remains decidedly sporting – just make sure you don’t tip off the national press about the “debauched challenges” that may or may not be taking place this year after the egg-smashing controversy of the 2010 trip. 

An encounter with rowing seems to be unavoidable during your time in Oxford, and in 7th week the Isis hosts the Christ Church Regatta, a competition specifically held for those completely new to the sport. Within just a couple of weeks many unsuspecting freshers will have undergone dramatic conversion from wide-eyed innocence into lycra-clad determination. For those who choose this path no sacrifice is to great in the cause of victory, and limbs will probably be lost to frostbite as novice crews battle it out to hit the water first on a sub-zero November morning at 6am.Unlike “Bumps” racing later in the year the Christ Church regatta is a head-to-head knockout competition as crews battle it out blade-on-blade with their opposition. This, when coupled with the fact that only novice coxes are allowed to be put in charge of the steering, results in understandable carnage, as a brief YouTube search will confirm. If the wind and rain do not set in, this tends to be a thoroughly enjoyable occasion. 

The early rounds of College Cuppers also kick off in Michaelmas. The football competition in particular holds a certain degree of prestige as it was first contested in the 1882, won by Magdalen. Football Cuppers is thus older than the World Cup itself, a fact that gives considerable bragging rights for members of the victorious team. The finals of hockey, rugby and football cuppers are held in Hilary, but should you lose an early round this autumn, any shot at glory would disappear.

Whilst these events may have the edge in terms of glamour, in reality sporting endeavour will be present on a weekly basis in all college fixtures. Football, hockey, lacrosse, rugby and netball all kick off their seasons in the next few weeks. These contests may not make the headlines but they will create drama, tension and glory across the whole of Oxford, it’s just up to you to be part of it.

So be it starring as a striker for your college hockey fourth team, playing for the Blues or watching Oxford beat Cambridge at Twickenham, be sure to get involved to some degree this term. There is life beyond academia in Oxford, and Cherwell Sport will be here to guide you through what promises to be an exciting eight weeks in the sporting arena.

If you would like to get involved with Cherwell Sport this term, please email [email protected].

Summer 2011 Sport Round Up

Adam Fellows
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Summer 2011 Sport Round Up

Golf

 

The US PGA was the last major of the year, and it turned out to be a rather strange affair dominated by two players who were mostly unheard of. In the end rookie Keegan Bradley took the title despite being ranked 108th in the world, becoming only the third player in history to win a major at his first attempt. This victory came after he clawed back a 5 shot deficit to draw level with fellow American Jason Dufner, who had led going into the final day. Then in the play-off Bradley held his nerve at the crucial moments, eventually coming out a deserving winner. 
The Open (not the British Open, however much our Yankee friends would like to rename it so) was a hugely entertaining tournament with excellent golf and some moving scenes at its conclusion. Darren Clarke finally managed to transfer the form he regularly displays in the Ryder Cup onto the major stage, coming out on top having headed the leaderboard since its second day. This was Clarke’s first major championship win, and having prematurely lost his wife to breast cancer in 2006 it was an appropriately emotional occasion, the 18th green filled with reverence and respect for a stalwart of the golf world.

The US PGA was the last major of the year, and it turned out to be a rather strange affair dominated by two players who were mostly unheard of. In the end rookie Keegan Bradley took the title despite being ranked 108th in the world, becoming only the third player in history to win a major at his first attempt. This victory came after he clawed back a 5 shot deficit to draw level with fellow American Jason Dufner, who had led going into the final day. Then in the play-off Bradley held his nerve at the crucial moments, eventually coming out a deserving winner. 

The Open (not the British Open, however much our Yankee friends would like to rename it so) was a hugely entertaining tournament with excellent golf and some moving scenes at its conclusion. Darren Clarke finally managed to transfer the form he regularly displays in the Ryder Cup onto the major stage, coming out on top having headed the leaderboard since its second day. This was Clarke’s first major championship win, and having prematurely lost his wife to breast cancer in 2006 it was an appropriately emotional occasion, the 18th green filled with reverence and respect for a stalwart of the golf world.

 

Cycling

This summer saw the two biggest annual events in cycling: the Tour de France, followed by the World Road Championships in Copenhagen. After experiencing record success on the track in Beijing, the British participants were hoping to reinforce their growing stature on the road with some strong performances. They didn’t disappoint.

Triple-Olympic champion Bradley Wiggins picked himself up from the let down of an early exit from le Tour with a broken collarbone, taking third place in the Tour of Spain, and then went one better by winning silver in the time-trial in Denmark. He was then part of an incredibly professional British road race team which controlled the entire race, allowing ‘the Manx Missile’ Mark Cavendish to storm clear in a bunch sprint at the end and claim the rainbow jersey of the World Champion.

Seeing Cavendish crossing the line first had become a common sight, as he clocked up stage wins 16-20 at the Tour de France in becoming the first Britain to win the green (sprinters) jersey, setting the team up for a strong Olympics.

Football

Premier League – only 6 games in, but it already looks like being a two-horse-race. The Manchester teams may have only established a 3 point lead over Chelsea but it’s the way they have done so which has been so impressive, the volume and quality of the goals has been unstoppable. It became clear that these two were going to be a cut above when on one glorious Saturday in August City crushed Spurs 5-1 and United were at their rampant best against Arsenal (who look like they’re in for a tough season) in a match which ended in an 8-2 humiliation at Old Trafford. There’s no doubt whatsoever that there will be several more twists over the course of the next few months, but I can’t see anyone else being able to compete with these two in the near future.

In more exciting news, the Beach Soccer World Cup – unknown to most but an actual, legitimate FIFA event, was held in a makeshift stadium on a picturesque beach in northern Italy. Seeing as I was present (albeit just for a day) I thought I’d shed some light on this fairly strange but entertainingly acrobatic form of football. The two main things worth talking about were firstly the El Salvador team, who (reputedly) were just a random group of fishermen who had entered as a bit of a joke and made it all the way to the semi finals only to be beaten by a disciplined Russia, the eventual winners. This must have stung slightly as Russia isn’t exactly famed for its beautiful white, sandy beaches.

The other semi final was one which most people would kill to see – Brazil vs Portugal. Sadly, both teams failed to deliver and that Brazilian flair seemed to be lost on their own players as they instead played in an uncharacteristically disciplined, direct and annoyingly effective way. Overall, an interesting sport but one which will definitely not rival the proper beautiful game.

Rowing

Britain achieved a record-breaking 14 medals (including 7 golds) at the World Rowing Championships in Bled, Slovenia. Furthermore, 13 out of the 14 boats which entered the competition have qualified for London 2012, and with coach Jürgen Gröbler sure to shuffle his boats around to maximise medal chances (including moving Oxford alumni Andy Triggs-Hodge and Peter Read away from the seemingly invincible Kiwi pair), the outlook appears very bright indeed.

Tennis 

Novak Djokovic rounded off one of the most successful seasons in the history of tennis with the same high intensity, determination and aggression as he roared to his first US Open victory. He has now won 64 matches out of 66 this year giving him an astonishing win ratio of 96.97%. The tournament itself panned out fairly predictably with the Serbian beating Rafael Nadal (as he has done all year) in a fantastic final to secure his 3rd grand slam of the season. He must now surely set his sights on the French Open, the only title missing from his trophy cabinet, and in fact losing to Federer in the semis there earlier this year was one of the only blemishes on his near-perfect run of form. 

His only other defeat came in the Davis Cup against Juan Martin del Potro, as Argentina beat Serbia to set up an early-December final against Spain, sure to be a thriller as Rafael Nadal looks to finish a relatively poor season on a high.

Athletics

ith the Olympics at home and just around the corner, the British team were looking for some strong performances at the World Championships in Daegu to give an indication of what to expect next year. The end result was a mixed bag, and will have given head coach Charles van Commenee plenty of food for thought. 

 

Several of our bankers for gold either underperformed or were beaten by truly world class performances, as defending champions Jessica Ennis and Phillips Idowu had to settle for silver. Mo Farah also experienced the peaks and troughs, devastated to lose the 10,000m but then storming back for glory over half that distance, while Dai Greene looked every inch a championship performer in winning the high hurdles. Add to that surprising medals for Hannah England over 1500m and Andy Turner in the high hurdles, and it would appear that, even it won’t be the people you expect, Britain will surely give us something to cheer about next summer.

Review: Zola Jesus – Conatus

James Manning
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Review: Zola Jesus – Conatus

Some people have taken to calling Zola Jesus – alias Nika Roza Danilova – ‘the goth Lady Gaga’. This is, of course, utter rubbish, but it’s only on Conatus that she’s started to demonstrate exactly why. Last year’s Stridulum II was, instrumentally speaking, thin and underpowered, but Danilova finally has the production to match her powerful, chilly voice. Conatus is heavy, cavernous, and darkly beautiful, taking atmospheric cues from witch house but filling out its clattering percussion and throbbing synthesisers with strings and piano – oh, and That Voice. 

The crucial difference between Gaga and Zola is that – unlike the cut-and-paste Madonna pastiches that make up 98% of Ms Germanotta’s back catalogue – Danilova has not only done her homework, but also turned it into origami afterwards. There’s a definite hint of Siouxsie Sioux in the icy splendour of her vocals, and the industrial samples and noise breakdown on ‘Vessel’ are reminiscent of early Nine Inch Nails, but the best tracks on Conatus are those where Zola Jesus keeps her influences at arm’s length.

 In fact, the greatest risk Danilova runs is attracting a different tag: ‘goth Florence’. ‘Lick the Palm of the Burning Handshake’, with piano chords cutting crisply through the electronic haze, and ‘In Your Nature’ are good enough but stick slightly too closely to the formula set by The Machine. Another problem is the favouring of passion over lyrical intelligibility: there’s a hell of a lot of feeling here, but it’s difficult to tell exactly why.

Still, tracks like the thrilling, slow-burning ‘Collapse’, or the mighty ‘Seekir’ – a proper dance track – prove that Zola Jesus has the ability to do something that’s entirely her own. The fact that this album begins not with a potential hit single but with the deep, pulsing, minute-long instrumental ‘Swords’ suggests that Danilova is willing to reject the easy option. All she needs to do now is resist the temptation to become Florence Welch with thicker eyeliner, because Conatus shows that she can do something far more interesting.

BUCS Athletics at the Olympic Stadium

Caspar Eliot
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0
BUCS Athletics at the Olympic Stadium

 

In all probability, two athletics events (and a Paralympics) will take place at the Olympic Stadium before West Ham get their grubby mitts on it (the IAAF don’t like the UK, so we’re unlikely to beat Doha and their World Cup winning millions to the 2017 World Championships). One will feature global superstars, world record holders, the fastest, the highest, the strongest, the works. The other? It could feature you.
To give a bit of background, a big shiny Olympics means a load of big shiny new venues for the 29 events that comprise the Games of the XXX Olympiad, and each of these requires a test event to ensure that everything will run smoothly when the real thing arrives. Some of these have happened already – you may remember the Beach Volleyball on Horse Guards Parade in August providing a welcome distraction from most of the rest of the city being set on fire. Others will occur throughout the next year, mostly in the form of high-powered events like the Cycling and Diving World Cups next February. 
However, rather than stage the UK Championships or a Diamond League event in Stratford, the London Games Organising Committee have, for reasons unknown, decided to give the honour to the BUCS (British Universities) Championships at the beginning of May.
This is fantastic news. Normally quite a low-key (though hotly contested) event, it should be transformed by the allure of a big stadium appearance. And the best bit is, every university is guaranteed two places per event, giving the opportunity to compete to a shedload of Dark Blues. That said, inter-squad competition is sure to be fierce, especially for the marquee events and relays (where Oxford have a real chance, comprising three of the four finalists last year). And if you’re an athletic type then there’s no reason to not give it a go, even if the last race you ran involved an egg and a spoon, as you may well surprise yourself.
In essence this is a plug, and yes, the author does hope to spend a few days in May struggling round one lap of the track in Stratford, maybe even jumping over some silly obstacles someone’s put in the way. But it’s a plug with a pretty good incentive behind it, surely the equivalent in prestige to getting an OURFC run-out at Twickenham (even if the crowd may be a little smaller). And just think, if you’re in the first heat of your event, and you win, you’ll have the stadium record. If that’s not something to work for, I don’t know what is.
To find out more, come and see OUAC at the Freshers Fair.

In all probability, two athletics events (and a Paralympics) will take place at the Olympic Stadium before West Ham get their grubby mitts on it (the IAAF don’t like the UK, so we’re unlikely to beat Doha and their World Cup winning millions to the 2017 World Championships). One will feature global superstars, world record holders, the fastest, the highest, the strongest, the works. The other? It could feature you.

To give a bit of background, a big shiny Olympics means a load of big shiny new venues for the 29 events that comprise the Games of the XXX Olympiad, and each of these requires a test event to ensure that everything will run smoothly when the real thing arrives. Some of these have happened already – you may remember the Beach Volleyball on Horse Guards Parade in August providing a welcome distraction from most of the rest of the city being set on fire. Others will occur throughout the next year, mostly in the form of high-powered events like the Cycling and Diving World Cups next February. 

However, rather than stage the UK Championships or a Diamond League event in Stratford, the London Games Organising Committee have, for reasons unknown, decided to give the honour to the BUCS (British Universities) Championships at the beginning of May.This is fantastic news. Normally quite a low-key (though hotly contested) event, it should be transformed by the allure of a big stadium appearance. And the best bit is, every university is guaranteed two places per event, giving the opportunity to compete to a shedload of Dark Blues. That said, inter-squad competition is sure to be fierce, especially for the marquee events and relays (where Oxford have a real chance, comprising three of the four finalists last year). And if you’re an athletic type then there’s no reason to not give it a go, even if the last race you ran involved an egg and a spoon, as you may well surprise yourself.

In essence this is a plug, and yes, the author does hope to spend a few days in May struggling round one lap of the track in Stratford, maybe even jumping over some silly obstacles someone’s put in the way. But it’s a plug with a pretty good incentive behind it, surely the equivalent in prestige to getting an OURFC run-out at Twickenham (even if the crowd may be a little smaller). And just think, if you’re in the first heat of your event, and you win, you’ll have the stadium record. If that’s not something to work for, I don’t know what is.

To find out more, come and see OUAC at the Freshers Fair.

 

Cult Books – The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Hattie Soper
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0
Cult Books – The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Things to hold on to are precious in Adams’ world. Just as his characters cling to their own sense-making objects – a towel, the phrase ‘Don’t Panic’, or a cup of tea – Adams gives us a Guide, for moments of disorientation and hopelessness. To use the Telegraph’s recent definition of a cult novel as ‘the sort of book that people carry around like a totem’, Hitchhiker’s Guide is a paradigm case.

Adams’ ironically named ‘Guide’ proves as arbitrary a thing to hold onto as anything else. Absurd and inexplicable, filled with the horror and humour of paradox, existence here is inescapably senseless. Reflecting on Earth throughout the galactic adventures, Adams notes the insanities of modern life: why do we need the instructions on a pack of toothpicks, detailing a technique which cavemen mastered 600,000 years ago? The most mundane areas of human behaviour are made to reveal the great delusions and assumptions we hold.

Equally, the grand and important is brought crashing down to the mundane. Adams’ jokes, and his story arcs, resolve themselves via anticlimax and surprising inversions. The series does not celebrate its heroes’ ability to overcome problems; Arthur Dent rarely wins his battles through any intentional action of his own. He is plucked from trouble, as he is deposited in it, by bizarre coincidence. Adams’ work is beyond traditional linear sci-fi narratives, with masterful intelligent life forms in control of their own fates. The most masterful intelligent life forms in Hitchhiker’s Guide, like the Ruler of the Universe, are figures of resignation.

Perhaps the emotional immediacy of this comes from how Adams makes an organising principle out of what existence feels like at its worst and most baffling of moments. His characters are repeatedly squashed by enormous frustrations – pointless cruelties of fate. They are not rescued by any divine system of justice, but by fluke.

He then gives us characters who shrug, and hold onto their towel. There is inspiration even in this conceptualisation of a random universe; we may not have the Answer (or even the Question), but we have something to keep us going. Adams’ vision is not bleak; it is always delivered with warmth, and there is companionship in the way he sees a universe we recognise. This is the comfort which the Guide gives us, and why it has been a ‘totem’ for 30 years and counting.

Review: Feist – Metals

Simon Torracinta
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0
Review: Feist – Metals

Full disclosure: I probably shouldn’t be reviewing this. I first heard Feist back in 2006, and something about the sultry vocals and acrobatic turns of her delivery touched my adolescent heart. I was hooked. I listened to 2004’s Let It Die obsessively, as well as the 2007 follow-up The Reminder – a chart-topping and critical success, due in no small part to the notorious iPod ad – and even scoured the internet for her under-the-radar self-pressed debut in 1999, Monarch (it’s worth the search). 

For reasons that I can’t quite fathom, I, who would rather listen to anything but the unending hordes of ‘female indie singer-songwriters’, am an unremitting and incorrigible Feist fan. Yet despite my heightened anticipation, I couldn’t have been prepared for Metals, her latest and first release in four years. Gorgeously produced by Gonzales and Valgeir Sigurðsson (noted for his work with Björk and Nico Muhly), the lush Metals is a work of understated but unmistakeable sublimity.

 Managing to be at once restrained and wholly enveloping, the semi-orchestral instrumentation beautifully accompanies Feist’s already striking vocal ability. The emotional ‘Graveyard’, where her voice touchingly strains on her repeated pleas to ‘bring them all back to life’, is perfectly accompanied by dirge-esque horns, organ, and hushed cymbals. The rapturous ‘A Commotion’, on the other hand, pits Feist’s multi-tracked vocal chords against the roar of circular-breathing driven saxophone  blasts. 

But the most affecting of the Metals roster is the trio at the halfway mark: ‘Bittersweet Melodies’, ‘Anti-Pioneer’, and ‘Undiscovered First’, each of which starts softly but erupts in a cathartic and unique climax. ‘Bittersweet Melodies’ makes use of light crash cymbals, strings, and a shimmering piano, while ‘Undiscovered First’ resorts to a rougher guitar backing (sprinkled with tambourines) complemented by a host of back-up singers. ‘The Circle Married the Line’, however, is where Feist’s utterly breathtaking voice takes centre-stage, jumping octaves alongside swelling strings, breaking slightly in moments of wrenching emotion. I’m taken all over again.

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