There are all these complaints about biased refereeing from the Sounders Nation and a couple of writers who should know better. Unfortunatly it does make the fans sound like a bunch of whiners. Yeah there have been some questionable goals, missed off side calls and a couple of important missed hand ball calls.

In return the sounders have had a couple go their way too, most notably the goal against New York. Over the course of a session the bad calls will balance themselves out.

It’s time to stop whining and blaming the refs, typically (with a couple of obvious exceptions) they have been fairly consistent within the game, even if what gets called changes game to game.

This year has not started well, only three wins so far and out the play off positions. While not in danger of loosing touch yet, the time is coming when we need to start picking up points and make a run up the table. Salt Lake showed (as did NY in 2008) that if you make it into the playoffs anything is possible.

Last year Seattle did miss the injury bug almost totally, Ljungberg missed a few games and that was really about it. This year has been an entirely different story: Nate Jaqua was the second highest scorer last year and a certain starter has yet to play a minute. Jhon Kennedy Hurtardo is out with a torn ACL, not a career ending injury anymore, but season ending certainly.

Another starter spending time on the sidelines this year was Osvaldo Alonso (quad, three games so far).

Then there are role players that have missed time. Michael Fucito (seven so far), Brad Evans (two games), Peter Vagenas (four games) and Pat Noonan (three games) have each missed significant time due to injury.

The resigning of Jeff Parke was very timely with the injury to Hurtardo. The return of Brad Evans and Nate Jaqua along with the signing of Blaze Nfuko gives some cause for optimism.

Ultimately all that really matters is to somehow get into the playoffs and hit your best form. Manage that and what happened in April and May would soon be forgotten about.

@sniffpetrol

Reporter: ‘Sebastian, can you explain how you massively fucked up?”

After Sebastian Vettel managed to have an accident with his team mate and throwing away a 1-2 for Red Bull at the Turkish GP. Lewis Hamilton and Jenson Button moved up and gave McLaren an unexpected win.

Vettel was trying to take team mate Mark Weber in the inside, Weber (as is his right) held his line and Vettel seems to loose control and moved into Webers car. Weber had enough time in hand that he was able to pit for a new nosecone and tires and finished third ahead of Schumacher.

Hamilton was just behind the Red Bull pair and said “It was fantastic. I got the best view of it! Sebastian is safe, but I just saw him go up the inside… It was unfortunate for them and fortunate for us.”

I spent a couple of hours thinking about me and true likes and dislikes and face up to a few facts.

Among those things was the realization I will never be a true hardcore mountain man, or spend days hanging out in art studios, or ever be admired for my cutting edge wardrobe. I do however love really good steak, adore toilet humour and don’t understand the attraction of Oprah.

I was talking with a friend today and he asked if placing these limits on myself is somehow preordaining my future. He’s clear there is a wide world out there with so much to offer. I know that, I’ve explored a decent amount of it over the years. I’m sure it’s not that I’m too small minded to take advantage of what the world has to offer.

This conversation was with a man who is leaving on a bicycle ride to Washington in couple of weeks. That’s Washington DC, and he lives in Seattle today. I can conceive of doing this, but actually making the commitment, quitting work and leaving my safety blankets behind is all but impossible to actually conceive.

In many ways, I wish it were different but accept this is part of who I am. I am Dave and working out what I don’t love, however much I wished I did, is every bit as important as knowing what I do have a passion for.

Dad once told me that something along the lines of “I can choose what I do, but I can’t choose what I like”. I’m getting that the differentiation between “what I do” and “like to do” is incredibly important.

I enjoy going out into the mountains, in the past I’ve walked portions of the Appalachian Trail, spent days backpacking across the Swiss Alps and English Lake District with friends. I enjoyed it, but the true passion was missing. I saw it in my friends as they stared off at the next ridge, but it was missing from me. Yeah that made me a little sad at the time.

On the flip side was Rallying; a friend who wanted company on a Saturday night out introduced me to motorsports on a small road rally. I loved every second of it, maps, competition and a wonderful welcoming group. 25 years later I still have the same passion for motorsports that I had that first night. That’s never waned in a quarter of a century.

My friend would like a career; he’d certainly like a more regular pay cheque, but has things he likes more. Getting back from a couple of weeks riding around New Mexico dodging thunderstorms on his bike was cleansing for him. In that time I spent time in Seattle, London, France and tending to my rather ill father. He felt riding up hills in New Mexico was a better deal than having dinner on the South Bank of the Thames looking at the palace of St James.

I have a few other things that deep down I wished had ignited a passion in me the way cycling does for Roger and rallying does for me. Dad was right, it doesn’t matter what I wish I were like. I am who I am.

I am Dave and I’m getting more and more comfortable with that idea.

A word that’s been thrown around a lot in my life recently is “context”. I’m trying to put events in their correct context, or others are trying to understand my emotions and give them some context.

There are times over the last year or so where the regular rules have been thrown out the window and I’ve been working on pure emotion, occasionally successfully and other time not so much.

I thought I was prepared for mums passing, we all knew it was coming, but all this time later I’m still working through the grief. There have been moments in the last year that I’ve been in some dark places, others when it was about pure unadulterated joy.

It’s strange when those moments of joy have come, especially as they often seem to be dependent on factors outside my control.

I’m talking about sport, the Sounders, In-ger-land, Team GB, Coventry City and the Olympics.

For sport to be meaningful it requires us to accept that a mere game has significance. If we are realistic it matters not that England beat Mexico 3-1 tonight in their final home game before the World Cup, and I’ll admit that in the big scheme of things to most people it does not matter.

But to me it does, I can’t dismiss the inner child that makes this game played by grown men to mean something significant. I agree with the cynics that no one is worth the $150000 per week some people are paid for kicking a ball around, but the market disagrees with the realists in me and the cynic in others.

The players may be over-paid men who blow their money on Bentleys and are given an importance and gravitas way out of proportion to their contribution to society. They are held up as role models, a role they are totally unqualified for.

There are a couple of things that we require to enjoy sports, professional sports at the highest level we are talking about here.

You must suspend that cynic and allow the innocence or childishness to take over and give 22 men kicking a ball around significance way beyond what’s reasonable.

I think this is one reason why events like Hillsboro, Heisel and the Bradford fire are so tragic and they leave such a mark on us. It’s not just the death, its that death came to so many while pursuing something that required this childishness to enjoy fully.

The second part is the community that grows up around these events. It gives us a sense of belonging. On game day there are almost 36,000 people in Quest Field wearing “Rave Green” and screaming for Seattle. For those few precious hours we are in this together, we live and die with the fortunes of 11 professional athletes we’ve paid good money to watch.

There have been moments in the last year where I was so detached by a combination of grief and pressure that little moved me. Thinking of my mother reduces me to tears at moments. The images of my father in a hospital bed this week bring out the same intense emotions.

I’m not minimising what’s gone on, the grief is very real, but there are moments inside the grief and mourning where the normal rules are suspended. Fulham taking out Juventus is one of those moments. Seattle clinching playoff football in style in Columbus was another.

Sport, and that’s sport that I feel emotionally invested in, allows me to suspend the dark places and revert back to innocence. When it does it feels so good move on, even if it’s just for a brief time and enjoy the moment.

I can’t put these moments into context because they just don’t fit. And I feel good about that.

I spend a lot of time thinking about “what if”, exploring the situation and preparing for what may be. Then after the fact I try to understand the “why?” Professionally it’s a significant part of being a project manager. Risk identification, risk management and lessons learned are a huge part of my professional life.

Away from work it’s also something I do. I have the same look at the “what if”, and there have been a couple of moments in the last year where what I thought of as the worst-case scenario came true.

Part of my recent journey has been moving through the “what if” to be closer to he “what is”.

I’m not going into details here, the short version of events meant that I was caught in what really was a worst case scenario that I was told would never happen. It changed a couple of relationships, probably for good, and I’m still recovering on a personal level from the incident. The fundamentals of who I am were questioned, and that was really hard.

This questioning carried over into the rest of my life, in part because I allowed it to do so.

Part of going forward for me involves going back to past incidents and wanting to understand the why, especially if it all went a little pear shaped. I’d like to understand why so I can recognize the problem next time and perhaps influence the outcome. In it’s simplest form it’s no more than just a big complex feedback loop and that’s important to my understanding of the situation.

This somewhat circular path leads to another habit of mine. I got into setting and working towards goals many years ago. It comes from somewhere in my foundations, and this is part of the quest for experiences one of the things I’ve been re-examining. It’s part of the answer, but there is so much more that I’m trying to define.

I’ve lived my life with a list of goals in he back of my mind, quests for experiences rather than if you want. I’ll admit they were not always the most meaningful goals, but they were goals nonetheless.

Race at a certain level, see a particular place, learn to play craps and so on, you get the idea.

I was pretty good at setting goals and did OK at achieving those goals. And, still, life wasn’t always that fulfilling as I’d hoped. Only thing was, at the time I didn’t notice. There was always something else to do, another hurdle to overcome and of course there was the ever-present, real life challenge of just making it through another week sanity intact.

My default of working from goal to goal meant I missed something important (warning – potential Woowoo stuff ahead). I missed being inspired by what I was doing. I was doing stuff because I wanted to, but there should be more to it than that. There is a whole level beyond that; I want to do stuff because I’m inspired to do it.

I’ve been trying to work out how to put this and after spending a little time with a thesaurus I think the best way I know how to put it is it’s the difference between Aspiring and Inspiring.

The Aspiring is the want of a “thing” or “experience”, inspiring is taking it so much further and finding real fulfillment.

Aspire

• To long, aim, or seek ambitiously; be eagerly desirous, esp. for something great or of high value.

Inspire

• To fill with an animating, quickening, or exalting influence
• To animate, as an influence, feeling, thought, or the like does

In it’s simplest form (and I need to work my way through simple first, it’s that linear thinking) it’s three deceivingly simple questions –

• What is it that matters most to me?
• Why does it matter?
• How does fit into what I want from life?

Thanks to a couple of people for asking, dad is doing better. He’s complaining and I think that’s a good sign of how he’s doing. It’s nice to be back in Seattle, even if it is just for a couple of days sitting in a conference rooms. The sun is out and it’s a beautiful day, I’ve spent a lot of the day looking longingly out the window.

“Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other large organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot masturbate” – Dave Barry

I spend a significant portion of my day in meetings and often come out wondering what was accomplished.

I consistently see the following problems with meetings at work:

• No agenda, or even worse a vague agenda with little direction
• Someone in the room will have nothing of value to add and insist on adding it
• The full scheduled time will be used
• They breed; one meeting usually leads to another
• Typically about an abstract concept, not a concrete product or decisison
• They take preparation time
• End up totally off course
• The information transfer is typically minimal

Today I spent two hours in a room with 9 other people preparing a presentation. That’s not a two-hour meeting, it’s 20 hours of time. I work for a company that does internal quotes and business plans in hours. This meeting was a considerable expense.

A considerable amount of the time was caught up in arguing the nuances of language and listening to people who had nothing to contribute, but an existence to maintain. As with all big companies there are people who justify by filling up their calendar and adding nothing of value.

A meeting is not the place to create a pitch, it’s a place to get the team together to approve the changes they’ve previously submitted are correctly incorporated by the content owner. This was a couple of hours of my time and 20 hours of the companies time wasted.

A previous employer used to have gathering areas on the production floor, no meeting rooms. The philosophy was we were coming together to share the resolution, not rehash the problem. These meetings rarely lasted more than a few minutes and were as effective as 10 people sitting around a conference table hashing out a pitch.

There are some great tools, email, sharepoint and other online communication or colaberation tools, this allows me to manage my own time. When we meeting face to face at work the group seems to automatically assume they have an hour of my time, which seems to be the standard meeting length, and will take all of that time.

In an email I might grasp their concept within 2 minutes and be ready with a reply. Other times I need to think about their message overnight. All of this is impossible in face to face meetings where an immediate reaction and 100% dedication is demanded of the participants.

If you can’t avoid it and actually have to call a meeting: First is that it takes a leader to keep the group focused, and know that just because Outlook can’t easily handle bookings of less than 30 minutes, you don’t have to use every second. Make a very clear agenda and let people know what they need to come with. The meeting is a place to make decisions, not inform and create content.

Keep the numbers down and make the meeting for those that really need to be involved, the oxygen wasters who need meetings to validate their existence really don’t need to be there

The final, and to my mind the most important part of a meeting is when everyone walks away and the decision that’s made. Know who is responsible for recording, sharing and finally implementing the results.

Mum “David, why are you reading a motorbike magazine”

Me “Because I’m thinking about… err getting… a motorbike… Maybe…”

I now know exactly where this conversation is going next, and all of a sudden I’m 14 again and it’s not going to go well.

My mother is in bed with cancer and can hardly move. Yet somehow she draws deep and finds the energy to roll back the clock 28 years to give her 40 year old son a scolding… This is why I fly 5500 miles and deal with changing airplanes in the outer ring of hell known as Atlanta. Awesome…

Mum “Da Vid…”

Yep, my name is pronounced as two separate words, this confirms what’s coming…

Mum “Why would you want to buy one of those?”

Dad is sitting across the other side of the hospital bed, he sits back to watch and starts smiling at what he knows is coming.

Mum “You’re 40… Why would you want a motorbike? Tommy tell him to stop being stupid…”

The grin disappears from dads face with a start, he’s now involved, he decides (wisely) not to say anything, knowing that 2 or 3 seconds of silence is all that’s required before…

Mum “David I worry about you so much already, you are not getting a motorbike…”

Ooooh, well played dad. He’s out the game and did not even need to open his mouth. If only I had that skill…

Me “Mum, I’m 40, if I want a bike I’ll get a bike. I’m just looking, I’ve not decided I will actually get one…”

Mum “I worry so much, if there is anything dangerous to be done, you’ll do it. Won’t you?”

Me “Biking is not dangerous”

Oh shit, all that’s missing is the “but muuummmm…” whine to start the sentence. I’ve lost, but how do I get out of this with any semblance of dignity?

Mum “Yes it is, Caroline’s son… You remember Natalie? And her daughter Caroline? Natalie was at Marks wedding. Anyway… He fell off his motorbike and hurt himself! It is dan-ger-ous and you are not to do it! Is that clear?”

Mum hardly pauses for breath and continues  “I worry about you enough now that you live in America and do that racing thing, you are not getting a motorbike! Is that clear? And you are too old for that racing thing you do, you’rs not supposed to be doing that at your age.”

I’ve done that “racing thing” for the last 24 years, it’s not the first time I’ve heard this part of the argument. I remind myself to stay away from the “I’m here now aren’t I, I’ve not died?” logic. History shows reasoned arguments do not do well.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and that’s my dignity making its exit with out me… Well fuck…

Mum “I just want you to be safe and happy…”

Me “OK, I’m not getting a bike, you are right it’s dangerous.”

Mum changes track “No need to be sarcastic, you are old enough to do what you want. I just want you to be happy.”

Me “But Muu-umm, I was not being sarcastic”

Mum “David” said rapid fire now. “But are you happy?”

Me “No, I don’t have a motorbike.”

Mum left me a series of mostly short notes, I left them in England after the funeral and have conspicuously ignored them since. Not 100% sure why, I think it’s mostly just the emotions around them.

I read a couple and put the rest in my bag to read once I get home, perhaps accompanied by a nice bottle of wine. Though, as it’s mum, maybe whiskey would be more appropriate.

It’s taken me a while to get there, but I’ve read a few and there have been a few consistent themes. First is the love she has for dad, my brother, her granddaughter and myself. Secondly she is proud of how I’ve made my way in world. Most importantly she wants me to be happy too.

A post General election tweet that sums up the situation rather well.

@itschrissmith: The British People have spoken. Unfortunately what they said was “errrrm.” #ukelection2010

I have spent the last couple of days thinking about my foundations, the things that shape our formative years and make us the people we are today.

I spent my teenage years and perhaps the first ten years or so after I left secondary school in a voracious quest for experiences, travel and following passions for racing cars and seeing some obscure corners of the world. I had some adventures, made a lot of mistakes and I think learned something from both the experiences and the people they brought into my life. Some made brief appearances, others I worked alongside for a year or two and a few are still there.

I am still on something of a quest for experiences. Certainly not as focused as I once was, more sure of what I want and the compromises I am willing to make to get what I’m after.

Growing up I was a rather clumsy child, any athletic or academic success came because something (or more often) someone engaged me. I think every report card that came home from school had “Could try harder” written against more than one subject.

There were exceptions, geography, geology, physics and playing rugby were about it. I had some exceptional teachers in people like Mick Shehan, Jane Croker and Mike Dearsley, all motivated and taught me lessons that have never left me.

At 16 I left school, apprenticed myself to the Ministry of Defence, occasionally wore a uniform discovered motor racing, independent travel and never really looked back. I know I could never afford to see the world on my terms so I found a career that allowed me to travel on the company credit card. I got to see some far corners of the world, had some incredible experiences that I’d never had got any other way and have never regretted the choices I made.

After 10 years or so of working I found myself at the end of one of life’s cul-de-sacs, I had gone about as far as my talent and enthusiasm for late nights and continual jetlag could take me in the world of professional motorsport and was clearly getting burnt out on the travel and hours.

At this point I was not sure what was my next step was, to give me a bit of time I went to college and became what we’ll euphemistically call a “mature student”. I think it meant I had a better developed alcohol tolerance when I arrived.

A 26-year-old Dave walked through the gates of coventry university and thought he had an identity. In reality I can see it was more a series of masks that I was trying on for size. The word “person” unsurprisingly comes from “persona”, this is Greek for “mask”. I’m at that point in life where I’m done with the masks, for good or bad.

Going to university was a big deal for me, growing up college was never seriously an option. The expectation was that I would leave school at 16, go out and learn a trade and make my way in the world. No one from my family went to college and besides my parents could not have afforded it. Truthfully, I’m not sure I would have had the motivation to complete my degree had I started at 18.

I finished my degree and through a strange set of circumstances ended up in Seattle and had myself one of those career thingies. Don’t get me wrong I work for an exceptional an exceptional employer, I’ve had a lot of fun leaned a lot about engineering, aeroplanes and made some great friends, but I kinda lost some of the passions I’d had 15 years earlier.

I’ve never been one for the self help books that seem to be on many nightstands and claim to help you find that ever elusive passion. I know what my passions are, racing cars, adrenalin and genuine connections.

I know that individual perfection I once strived for is impossible. I’m starting to understand my foundations and where they come from. They have to be accepted and lived with, and that alone has come as something of a relief.

This is all part of what I’m still trying to work out and that I’m not making bold statements that “I know who I am”. I’m saying that I think I’ve a more realistic view of my identity and myself.

I’ve been been shy about a lot of the last couple of years. The loss of my mother after a three year battle with cancer was huge, coming soon after the loss of my grandfather in 2008. I really lost the plot for a while, I’m pretty sure was not a great person to be around at times, and I’m truly sorry for that.

Today is another tough day, Dad is undergoing surgery and I’m sitting here in Starbucks on Guildford High Street reflecting and waiting for the call to say he’s out of surgery. I understand what I’ve lost, that was fairly easy, but getting back there, that’s the hard part.

Sorry if this does not make total sense, it’s been that kind of a day.

I’ve been lucky enough to drive some truly awesome cars. Ferrari 355, a Formula Ford, very briefly (and fairly slowly) a McLaren F1-GTR, a very well prepared Subaru rally car, a Formula 3 racecar and a stupidly quick VW Golf rally car. All very cool, rather expensive and unfortunately mostly belonged to someone else.

Most petrol heads focus primarily on the importance that the car plays in this equation, ignoring the other variables. I think the car is a clear role, but other things can be as important.

For example driving highway 101 in California a few years ago was cool for three reasons; a) it was a Convertible, b) there was a great road and c) the presence of a hot blonde in the passenger seat. The fact it was a Chrysler Sebring rental car and therefore crap is actually rather unimportant when it comes to the coolness of the situation.  (But they do come with a full size spare for when you do something dumb and the rental company do not check the spare when you return it). Nothing short of a Lamborghini Gallardo could have made it any more special.

I’m sure Col De Turini during the Monte Carlo rally in an STi with pace notes and no oncoming traffic must be earth shatteringly amazing, however Col De Turini in a economy rental car is still trouser wetting good and stored in my petrol-head spank bank for future reference. Once again in my opinion the car is less important than the road and the history that goes with it.

This gives us an equation (and I am an engineer at heart):

Car coolness * Road awesomeness * Situation = Petrolhead Spankability

or

CRS=PS

And chasing a maximum PS is what it’s all about.

My personal PS highpoint may be the Pikes Peak Hill Climb in Colorado. Both the road (R) itself (this was before it was ruined by tarmac and crash barriers all the way to the top) and the views/location/history (S) score rather well. Throw in the almost inevitable low C of a rental car and it still scored well above average.

Now replace that C with a fully prepared rally car on slick tires with lot of extra lights. Then increase S even further by adding pace notes, a closed road and running in the dark (I love night stages) and the PS is now measured by multiple Shitloads (in other words it’s off the scale. A “shitload” of anything is a big number with a lot of zeros in it, I believe its metric).

By the way, when the side car riders comment upon how stupid/brave the rally people were to attempt this, we took it as a complement.

One of the great things about using the PS equation is comparing disparate experiences and coming up with a coolness quotient.

For example, lets compare two different moments in time:

First is a Porsche GT3 (very high C) in the I-90 floating bridge (low R) between Seattle and the Eastside late one night (low S). The road was immaterial beyond there was nowhere for police bikes to hide. So in summary the situation was mostly irrelevant, the road boring, but the car awe inspiring. Together this gives us a shockingly low PS for something involving a car from the chaps in Stuttgart.

Comparing that with doing 125MPH in my Miata (a solid medium C). Getting to that sort of speed in the Miata is not difficult (I imagine), you just need a lot of road or a race track (theoretically). Lets say the road is the very scenic Yellow Head Highway north of Kamloops BC (a solid medium R) on our way back from the Big Horn Rally in Edson (medium S).

Lets be clear, the GT3 at 160 (allegedly) was incredible, quiet, planted and eager for more (or so I’d imagine). We only slowed because we ran out of bridge and did not fancy learning how much an 180MPH speeding ticket was (once again, I imagine that’s what I’d do if I were ever in this theoretical situation ;-)).

The Miata was (or would be had I done this, I imagine) a whole different animal, the noise and feedback made it clear this was about as fast as we were going on this particular evening, but together the C*R*S give a higher PS score than the GT3 on a straight road.

As cool as these moments of automotive porn were, they were all missing an essential ingredient. A driver that knows what they are doing behind the wheel of the car.