Time for technology?

There has been much discussion recently about the use of a "3rd eye" to adjudicate on crucial decisions in football matches. If the recent history of rugby is in indicator of the potential success of this idea, it should be consigned to the scrapheap.

Firstly, we had the Wilkinson try against Scotland. At a crucial juncture of the game Wilkinson took a curving run on the outside and placed the ball for a vital try for England. After consultation, the Television Match Official (TMO), Donal Courteney awarded the try despite pictures clearly showing that Wilkinson had been in touch.

I could take the decision, but I wanted accountability. I wanted to see the whites of Courtenay's eyes. I want him to talk us through the pictures and explain the bit where he looked away, blinked or fell off his chair. He must receive a fee, paiod for out of my ticket money. I have a right to an explanation. But somehow, Courtenay was allowed the right to silence.

Then on the weekend, Wales were denied a last minute try scoring opportunity by an independent timekeeper, Geoff Warren. After indicating 10 seconds left to play, Warren instructed the referee Chris White to blow for time. In the dreadful confusion,the tape recordings of their conversation portray a blustering, pompous panicking TMO leaving poor Chris White in an inextractable position.

If White had honoured his word and allowed the line out, which Wales then scored from, Italy would have had an even stronger case for complaint. Time was up, White had been instructed, how could he let play go on?

Don't get me wrong, I have no love for Chris White, who is a referee that seems to hate the game, such is his desire to stop any passage of play that might be deemed entertaining. But he was left out to dry by Warren, and had to make a public and embarrassing semi-apology.

But it's Geoff Warren I want to hear from. I want to know why he lost 3 seconds of his life. I want to know why he failed to offer any constructive advice to White except to bellow "I have time, I have time!!" Give me accountability. Give me Warren's head. In front of a camera. Explaining himself.

When you lose a game and you suspect a poor refereeing decision you feel indignation, persecution and bitterness. When you lose a game and you know that you have been unfairly denied by a man who has exactly the same viewing position, the same stopwatch, and the same audiovisual tools as yourself, then you feel more than that. You feel helpless, numb and debilitated. I'm not sure that football fans aren't better off without that knowledge.

Club v Academy

There is a pressing issue that is arising through Junior football in Wales that is causing much anxiety and confusion, not to mention a good helping of scepticism amongst the people running the teams.

The word is spreading that from next season, the one player - one club rule will be strictly enforced at Junior level. From next August, and player that is registered with an academy will not be allowed to play for his regular club.

The general feeling is that the rule is unworkable, and that it cannot be beneficial for any party involved. The issue is sitting there like a dark cloud waiting to burst, with little guidance, discussion or information reaching the junior club administrators.

At a League meeting a few weeks ago, nobody really belived it will ever happen. But without discussion, communication and consultation, the rule will pass, and the FAW Trust will find itself bombarded with crisis calls from clubs and players who find themselves in disarray.

There are some tricky issues to be resolved here. Let's look at some likely scenarios.

* Player A is a star player for Felinheli U13s. He is on the fringes of the Bangor City Academy side. Unable to play for Felin, he sits on the bench for Bangor's games.
Frustrated at the lack of football, he goes back to Felin, and no longer benefits from the Academy training.

* Players B, C, and D are outstanding in the Waunfawr 15s and represent Caernarfon Academy. Unfortunately the rest of the Waunfawr Squad is very weak. Without players B,C and D, they regularly lose heavily, the players become disenchanted and the team disbands.

* Player E enjoys playing for his club alongside his schoolmates, but he also appreciates the training he receives at the Academy. His parents do not drive. He leaves the club and finds himself making regular long trips with the academy to away games in Liverpool, Cardiff and Swansea. Disenchanted with the travelling and finding it increasingly difficult to make travel arrangements, he leaves the Academy.

Now I am not familiar with the Academy situation. My players are too young. (Though the Academy age group and qualifying procedure has never been very clear to those of us who aren't in the know.)

But I am confused about what is going to happen. Will the Academy play regular football for their contracted young players? If so, against who? Will Bangor travel to the English clubs? To South Wales? If so, how can this fit into the travelling guidelines set down for young players?

Currently the whole thing is a hotpotch of rumour and speculation. It is causing unrest amongst the junior clubs and should be addressed sooner rather than later.

Welsh Cup Weekend

I was disappointed for Port Talbot yesterday. For years, Afan Lido were the main club in the town. It seems strange to think that Lido, now playing in the confusingly named Welsh League were one of the early European qualifiers from the early days of the League of Wales.

But I have always preferred Port Talbot, though I can never remember if they are Town or Athletic these days. Lido was never a great place to watch football, despite the big stand that sits in isolation on one side. I always felt that Lido was a club run for its players, and home games would see dozens of youth players milling around, watching the senior team.

Port Talbot on the other hand are a much more ambitious club. Chairman Andrew Edwards runs the club like a child would run a toy shop. His enthusiasm is infectious and he tries to do things properly. The club and stadium develop every year, and its always fun to see the madman Hela with his drums and flags on Clwb Peldroed. I found it a shame then that Port Talbot won't be rewarded with a Welsh Cup Final, but all credit to Lido who celebrated with panache.

A shame too for Porthmadog who lost out on penalties at Carmarthen despite their first ever overnight stop. Port are another club who punch above their weight, but they have good local support, and in big Les Davies, they have the League's most exciting player.

The match was notable for a nasty stamp by Carmarthen's Sacha Walters which rightly earned him a red card. But it was a proper stamp at least, not a little nibble that would be perpetuated by someone like Rooney or Beckham. No this one was aimed at the gut, and came from a height of about 4 foot. Now you can't grow up in Port Talbot with a name like Sacha and not expect to mix it occasionally. But if I had that name, I doubt that I would grow a mane of blonde hair and then gel it up like a petrified Tomcat.

An excellent point for the Cofis at Rhyl. It's always good to see anyone take points from Rhyl, but I think it's vital for football in Gwynedd that Caernarfon stay at the highest level. Let's hope that things improve for the Canaries.

Sunny Frustrations

One of the disadavantges of following a grassroots team is the amount of postponements that you suffer throughout the season. The slightest shower, frost, or dark cloud, and a game is likely to be called off, such is the standard of playing field below semi-pro level.

And so it was that Felinheli's game at Machno United was postponed ealier this morning. With clear skies and a sunny day, we were all looking forward to the long trip South, but the weather must be different down there below the equator. I discovered an hour ago that Liverpool were playing Man United on Sky at 1pm. It's amazing how many games are called off when there's a big match on the telly.

My own game at Deiniolen was called off due to the number of my players competing in the Eisteddfod this morning. At 10am, my centre half was making funny faces on a stage when he would normally have been winning a 50/50 challenge.

Desperate for football, I made the trip to Y Fali to watch our talented Under 17s side play. There is no Under 17 league in Gwynedd. By that age, the lads are starting to discover beer and women, and many villages struggle to raise a side. So Felin play across the sea in the Anglesey League.

It's a good 20 minutes to Y Fali, which gave my six year old ample time to ask some very difficult questions. Here's a sample. See if you could have answered them:

Q. Can Bangor play against Arsenal in the Premiership
A. No. Bangor are Welsh. Arsenal are English.
Q. So why can Cardiff play in the Premiership?

Q. Why is Y Fali called Valley in English?
Q. If everyone spelt it the same way, then they wouldn't have to write it twice. Why do they bother spelling it differently?

Q. Robbo was Bangor's best player wasn't he?
A. Yes
Q. So why doesn't the new manager want him?

I arrived in Y Fali in a foul temper as you can imagine. Eric Junior was impressed however. "Uw, mae hwn yn lle braf Dad". He wasn't wrong. Y Fali has even got a bank which is a rare commodity these days.

The unpromisingly named "Cae Mwd" was also pleasing. Two decent fields in open ground with good facilities. This morning, there were over 50 young teenage lads making good use of the field. It is so depressing that politicians don't see the evident benefits of sport for this most difficult of age groups. When gang culture is the current hot topic, it is still difficult to find a field to play on. When Thatcher sold off the school fields, she created an irreversible situation, the evil witch.

The game itself was enjoyable enough. A strong wind dictated the play and Y Fali coped better with the conditions. We are the Arsenal of the League, and more physical sides enjoy playing against our pretty football. Still, we came away with a 2-2 draw which was a fair enough result.

A couple of weeks ago, I was trying to defend referees. The past few games I have sen have been well reffed and as a result there have been no problems. Maybe I was wrong. Good refs can enjot themselves. Today's game was well controlled again, and I made a point of praising the ref at the end of the game. I try to do this every game. Refs get enough stick, and if they have a good game, we should let them know about it.

Happy St David's Day?

So today is St David's Day. And all across the country, little children are being sent to school in National Costume. Which used to mean a pointy hat for the girls , or a waistcoat and cravat for the lads. But more and more our national identity is being expressed through sport, a point that politicians would do well to heed.

The school yard is full of red shirts. Some football, but overwhelmingly rugby. Whatever statistics we can quote about numbers of players and spectators at professional level in the respective games, there can be no doubt that rugby is the sport which has entered the psyche of the Nation. When people want to wear the Welsh heart on their sleeve, they turn to the three feathers and not the Ddraig Goch.

There are other factors which turn St David's Day into a rugby fest. Primarily, the quality of rugby clothing is far superior, and on a chilly March morning, only the cruellest parent can wrap their child up in a low cut football shirt which positively shimmers with synthetic material. It's the thick cotton of a rugby shirt which ones out for the concerned Mam every time.

But the casual patriot, not the fan, will always go with rugby over football. The national rugby team give occasional cause for celebration. That helps. We saw in 2000 that the football team can win over the country when the National team does well, but memories are short. The 2005 Grand Slam elevated rugby back to its former position as the National Game, despite its shameful exclusion of the Northern clubs.

As for the rest of St David's Day, well you can keep it. Not for us the raucous celebrations of St Patrick. We go for hymn singing, tea drinking and the occasional ex-pat dinner where they wear kilts and play harps.

It's Dewi's fault. St David was a famous teetotaller known as "The Water Man". HIs primary achievement was to round up the fun-loving pagans in the area we now know as England, and teach them to work hard, live frugally and dedicate themselves to a lifetime of self-deprivation. What a guy!

This afternoon, I will watch large groups of children reading poems out loud with exagerrated mannerisms. This is called "adrodd" and people compete to see who can be the campest and most absurd poem reader. Even adults. And that is really our National Sport, not rugby or football.

This isn't a Cymru that I feel like celebrating. Where are the pub crawls, the festivals, the holidays? Even the new parade through Cardiff makes me feel slightly embarrassed with its forced patriotism.

Last week, I was given another reason to look West across the sea. The England rugby team visited Croke Park and were given a tremendous welcome by their hosts. That was a shock and a disappointment for me at the time, but in hindsight, I can only admire that country and reflect on my own small-mindedness.

When the Irish respected the Queen last Saturday, I think back to our own treatment of that anthem during the last football World Cup Qualifiers. I had been waiting since 1984 for that opportunity and I booed their miserable tune as loud as anyone. Perversely I never boo it during rugby internationals, and I certainly won't boo it when we play England in a few weeks time.

Remember, the last Englishman to set foot in Croke Park had been driving a tank which killed 14 civilians. And still they didn't boo.

But us? We still lay it on thick. And an Englishman hasn't murdered one of us for a good few centuries now. I'm still not sure how the Irish can have moved on so quickly and so admirably. But it was a stunning tour de force that demonstrated their country's self-confidence, and an attitude to which we can only aspire.

Let's stop defining our Welshness by our hatred of England. It's time to move on. Let's be happy in our skins, and in our cotton, or polyester shirts. Forget the inter-sport rivalry, we're not big enough for that. And let's look towards Croke Park for our inspiration. We are Cymraeg, and that's enough reason to celebrate. Happy St David's Day.