Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Football, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Sport
By the time this comes out, I will know if Nottingham Forest have got relegated or not.
And while at the time of writing – April 26th – they’re [just] out the relegation places, I fear that will change.
Not simply because Everton are basically clear having beaten Liverpool last night.
Not simply because we’re playing Man City this weekend.
But because – if I’m being honest – we deserve to god down.
I hate saying that.
I pray for a miracle – or should I say, luck.
But it’s been a season that never seemed to get going … undermined by bad choices, petulant behaviour and – thanks to the Premier League and Referees Association – wrongful and unfair decisions.
What has made this worse is that for 2 years … it was wonderful being a Forest fan.
Magical even.
A togetherness between club and fans that I’d never felt.
Not even in the glory years of the late 70’s and 80’s.
It was a togetherness that basically willed them to glory.
Pushed them over the line to the supposed promised land.
And gave me one of the best days of my life in one of the worst periods of life.
And what did we find when we finally got there after those decades of pain and under-delivery?
Well, excitement … and disappointment.
Some of our making. A lot of where the game has gone.
And all of this was made worse by use and our cauldron of chaos.
No strategy. No plan. Just mayhem.
To be fair, some of this was to be expected given we got promoted with a load of loan players and no real expectation of ‘going up’ that season … hence we had to buy a squad in the blink of an eye. And some of it was because our owner has an incredible ambition and has backed that up with a level of investment we could never imagine. [Which, sadly, also was not allowed by the out-of-touch rules for promoted team spending]
But it seems we didn’t learn from those mistakes and mayhem this season and instead of letting our football do our talking, we allowed a side show of mess to get the spotlight and the headlines.
Some was justified. Most wasn’t.
It ended up being a distraction to the club and the fans … causing division, internal fighting and a label of being spoilt kids.
I want us to stay up, but if I’m honest – we shouldn’t.
Luton Town should, because they have shown the fight and togetherness we’ve sadly missed.
Not because we don’t have good players – we do, arguably the best we’ve ever had – but because we don’t have a common belief or philosophy.
Or should I say, not a consistent one.
Stubbornness. Arrogance. Misplaced expectations all added up to bad – or delayed – decisions that have cost us with the result being a team who took over 20+ years to get here, looking like a team who don’t deserve to stay here.
On one level, relegation will be a relief. The ability to let go of the angst and start again. But I don’t doubt the pain would then come back hard. The worry of not going back up. Of not learning our lessons. Of seeing good people and players being let go and replaced with imposters and imitations. Of being the poster child for failure. Again.
So I hope for a miracle almost as much as I hope for a reset.
To refocus.
Reconnect.
Reunite.
Fans. City. Team.
Because I love my club, but I don’t love what the Premiership turned us – and our fans – into.
Filed under: Anniversary, Australia, Childhood, Dad, Emotion, Experience, Family, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Paul, Respect, Travel, Trust
So at 10:34 am today, it will be the 25th anniversary of my Dad dying.
25 years since that early Saturday morning call, urging Mum and I to get to the hospital quickly.
25 years since we were rushed straight to his bedside.
25 years since I heard my Mum gently tell him it was OK to go.
25 years since we witnessed his final breath.
25 years since my world shattered.
For the first time.
You’d think that given I’ve lived almost half my life now without him, I’d have come to terms with him being gone.
And on one level I suppose I have.
I certainly don’t carry the same level of pain and loss as I did those first years.
But in some ways, I miss him even more.
Part of this is because the half of my life without him has been the half where so much in my life has happened.
The good, the bad, the weird, the disappointing, the stupid, the wonderful, the unexpected.
Also known as the part of life where a parent discovers if what they did, helped their kids become whoever they want to be.
In my case, I’ve talked a lot about how Dad – and Mum – supported me.
Not financially – because we didn’t have it – but emotionally.
Encouraging. Listening. Enquiring. Advising. Helping.
It’s important I point out they were not some passively-engaged pushovers. Oh no. They were very engaged and any major decision or choice I was considering was always met with a bunch of questions.
But the thing is, these were never to undermine, only to better understand.
For them, the most important thing was to learn what I wanted to do, why I wanted to do it and how I had come to that decision.
That was their only motivation.
But it’s what they did next that – having become older and a Dad myself – I now realise was an act of incredible parenting.
Because if they felt satisfied I’d given real thought to what I wanted to do and really cared about doing it, then – even if they didn’t completely agree with my choices – they would actively encourage my decision.
Said another way … they trusted they’d had given me the skills to make the right decisions and choices that worked for me.
It’s why they supported my decision to not go to university.
It’s why they supported my decision to become a studio musician.
It’s why after Dad had a terrible stroke, they told me to still go to Australia, because they knew if I didn’t go then, I’d likely never leave Nottingham at all.
If anyone can think of a more selfless act of love than that, I’d love to hear it.
Of course they made mistakes.
We had disagreements.
I disappointed them more than a few times.
But if things went wrong with the stuff I was trying to do, they never said, “I told you so”.
All I was ever met with was love and support.
Sure, after some time had passed they may have asked me what I learned from what I did – or didn’t – do.
And occasionally – when Mum was out of earshot – Dad would ask what the hell I had been thinking when something had gone particularly bad/daft … but I was never made to feel I was stupid or had disappointed them, even when I know I probably had disappointed them.
It’s part of the reason I felt such an obligation to make my adventure to Australia count.
There were some tough, horrible times, not helped by the fact Dad was very ill and Mum had had to give up her job to look after him 24/7.
Yet every time I said I’d come home because Dad had got worse or I felt Mum was struggling under the weight of pressure and responsibility, they said [through Mum] “we miss you so much, but we don’t want you to come back until you’re ready and we don’t think you’re ready”.
And as much as I missed them and longed to be with them – and I feel a bit horrified to say this – they were right. I wasn’t ready. Not really. I was exploring and discovering life. Exploring and discovering me … which means they were as correct in their view as they were when they thought if I didn’t go to Australia when I’d originally planned, I’d most likely never leave Nottingham – let alone England.
Not because of guilt or duty, but – as uncool as it may sound – because I loved my parents dearly and never needed much of an excuse to want to be near them.
And despite them knowing this … despite them going through arguably the most challenging time of their life … despite them knowing they would miss me massively … they decided what they wanted wasn’t as important as what they wanted for me.
So with a breathtaking amount of love and sacrifice, they encouraged me to leave my family, my home, my city and my country … believing there was more for me outside of Nottingham than Nottingham offered for me.
Just to be clear, we loved Nottingham.
I loved it as a kid and I still love it now.
But – as my parents suspected – the life I’ve been able to live is a life that is much bigger than the one I’d have probably had if I’d stayed where I was. Especially given where Nottingham – and the UK for that matter – was at that point in time.
I’m not saying it would have been a bad life.
I’m not saying anyone is wrong if they have chosen another option.
But there was obviously a strong desire in me to explore – driven by an Australian woman I’d met – as I spent a year planning the possibilities of the trip before I even broached the subject with Mum and Dad about wanting to go.
And that’s why I felt so strongly that I had to squeeze every possibility out of it when they told me to still go.
In many ways, it was my way of repaying them for the the love and encouragement they’d given – and always given – me, with my bigger life decisions.
My view was that if I was going to be away from my wonderful parents, then the least I could do was to make it something they could feel was worthwhile … and by worthwhile, I mean something that represented living a life of fulfilment.
Now I’ve written a lot about that in the past and now, 25 years later, I hope I have – and continue to – do just that.
I know Dad would have been thrilled I’d lived around the world … found someone who loves me as much as I love them … had experienced the sheer joy of becoming a father myself … of loving Otis with all I’ve got … and, on top of all that, had managed to have and enjoy some sort of career – even though I know he’d have found it utterly, utterly bizarre. [By which I mean he’d have found the job I do bizarre, not that I had managed to have a career]
I admit, when I moved back to the UK after 25+ years away, I did question this. I wondered why I would come ‘home’ when my parents had passed.
But then I remembered they knew I loved them, they knew I was there at their final moments and – at least in Mum’s case – they knew literally everything in my life, except my friendship with Paul, was because of the adventure I went on. The adventure they enabled and encouraged me to do.
And while I would do anything to have just one more day with them both, this lets me feel I made – and am making – the most of it for them.
Not because they wanted that, but because I know they wanted that for me.
So thank you.
Thank you for the stuff you did and the stuff you never even know you did.
Thank you for it all.
Every single thing.
Because it’s no exaggeration to say all I have has something to do with you.
Maybe it was a nod at the right time.
Or a nudge. Or a word of encouragement.
Or the right questions. Or the needed hug.
It all mattered.
It all still matters.
You helped me believe in myself when I didn’t believe in myself.
You still do.
What a gift.
I’ll keep striving to make it all worth while.
For me. But especially for you.
For another 25 years at least.
I miss you Dad. And Mum.
Love you.
Rx
Filed under: 2023, Advertising, Agency Culture, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Cannes, China, Colenso, Colleagues, Comment, Context, Corona Virus, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fashion, Fatherhood, Holiday, Individuality, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Martin Weigel, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Paul, Paula, Peace, Prejudice, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Revenge, Review, School, Shanghai, Travel, Trust, Truth
So with all the focus on Otis’ 9th birthday, I only just realized this is going to be the last week of this blog for this year. Which means you get a month off and then – when I come back – I will be entering year number 18 of writing my rubbish.
EIGHTEEN YEARS.
An adult.
And will my posts reflect that maturity?
Errrrm, probably not.
In fact a while back, I got called ‘immune to maturity’ by Metallica’s management which they quickly followed up with, “… and I bet you think that’s a compliment.”
That’s why we’re still working together after 7 years … we understand each other so well, ha.
2023 has been an interesting year for me.
Definitely more highs than lows.
In many ways, it has been a standout year for me – both personally and professionally.
I feel almost embarrassed to say that. I totally appreciate how many people are suffering right now. I have friends in tough places and there’s those dealing with everything from mental health challenges through to terrifying conflicts … which just reinforced how privileged and lucky I am.
For the first time in my life, I started this year with a resolution, and it was to say ‘yes’ to everything I was asked to do.
I don’t know why I decided to do that – maybe it is because for all of NZ’s magic [of which there’s tons] it can sometimes feel a pretty isolated, inward-focused place – so to counter that, I decided 2023 was the year of yes and I got to do a lot of that.
Saying yes let me travel literally around the world for work … including some countries/cities I’d never been to in my life. [Not to mention, having the gift of visiting my childhood home again, even though I burst into tears when the lovely new owner opened the door, haha]
I got to speak at a bunch of ace conferences. from Cannes – with my mates Paula and Martin – the magnificent State Of Social in Perth right through to the WWD World Fashion Conference in China [with the incredible Phoebe Philo and, bizarrely, being interviewed by Fashion TV] with a whole bunch in-between.
I was a guest speaker at a bunch of institutions from Cambridge University, the Ecuadorian Advertising Federation right through to the House of Prada.
I got to be part of some incredible creative projects. From the huge: helping design the 72 Seasons world tour stage set for Metallica. The cheeky: offering the All Blacks rugby coach a free curry for a year if he brought home the World Cup, then taking away his naan bread because he didn’t. To the most awarded: watching the wonderful fools at Colenso pick up Gold gongs and Agency of the Year title’s all over the place.
Top that off with seeing 3 members of my team become parents for the first time [and another about 3 months into that magical journey] and to see the 3 newbies from overseas not only fit in with the gang like they were here for years, but make an even bigger difference than I hoped – and you can see why I feel it has been a hugely satisfying year for me professionally.
But it’s the personal side that made it truly memorable.
First of all, we’re all happy and healthy. Like properly happy and healthy.
Then, for the first time in 7 years, we had our first proper family holiday. And while It did not last long in terms of duration, the glow still is with me months later. Yes, I appreciate that sounds more sickly than being force fed 5047389 sticks of candyfloss, it’s true.
Jill started her new company, Tiny Riot … a jewellery company dedicated to say the words women feel, but don’t always want to say out loud. She also felt she had found her peeps … letting her feel she was part of a community she loves and thrives in. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me, especially as we know we’ll no doubt be moving to another country in the not too distant future, hahaha.
Just to be clear, that has not been decided yet, we just know it’s coming … especially as we’ve already lived in NZ longer than we have lived in the last 4 countries we have been in. But I digress …
Which leave Otis …
Brilliant, wonderful, fantastic Otis.
Well, he has flourished and blossomed this year.
From seeing his mates network evolve and develop … with their own codes, games and slang … through to watching him throw himself into new activities, like tennis and swimming, yoyo’s and messing about with Roblox, Reels and video games … to seeing him love his budgie, Sky [which he made me a t-shirt to wear on the Cannes stage to ensure I admitted I cared for it as much as Rosie, ha] and then of course, watching him deal with his dysgraphia diagnosis with positivity, openness and conviction.
Given I have seen adults literally burst into tears when they had to move desks at work – true story – seeing an 8, now 9 year old – embrace a challenge that will affect him for the rest of his life with understanding, openness and a desire to not let it define him or make excuses for him is honestly one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.
[I also have to add Forest staying in the Premiership was a highlight, because while Jill and Otis may not like to hear it … that team are family to me, hahaha]
But of course, you can’t have good without bad and there’s been a couple of things that have shaken me deeply.
One in particular made me question everything I thought I knew and could rely on.
The impact it had on me was – and still is – huge. I would say it has been the most emotionally confronting situation I’ve experienced since my parents died. It has been that big.
What makes it even worse is that in reality, I may never really get over it as the impact affects me and my family for the rest of our lives.
And we’re the least affected in this situation.
It has taken me months to try and come to terms with what has happened … to try and accept things I thought I knew and could rely on, have failed.
If truth be told, I’m still working on it … because while I appreciate life can take unexpected turns, it’s why – and how others deal with it – that determines how you feel about it and in this case, they are the things that ended up being disastrously dealt with.
Which is why 2023 can never be seen as a spectacular year for us, merely a very good one.
And as I said, that is still a hugely positive outcome given so many are suffering in ways that make my pain seem insignificant.
Which is why I was so impacted by some graffiti that someone I vaguely know, told me about.
It’s this …
… they’re not wrong.
Which is why, while I know 2024 will face it’s challenges – especially with the US election and the likelihood America will lose its mind and vote for Trump [while acknowledging the Democrats have failed to find and develop a single worthy candidate in 4+ years] – I hope by this time next year, more people can say they had a more positive than challenging year because the World needs it. Because for all the hell that Covid subjected the planet too, the anxiety created by people [read: old, white men] who feel entitled to do and have whatever they want is arguably, even worse. And without wanting to sound like a hippie … some peace would be nice.
I know no one will have read this far, but then this is not for you … but I can assure you the last 3 posts of this week won’t be as indulgent, not for your sanity, but because I can’t be arsed to write so much rubbish again.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Brand Suicide, Colenso, Colleagues, Context, Culture, Dad, Distinction, Dysgraphia, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Equality, Fatherhood, Football, Jill, Leadership, London, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, My Fatherhood, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Perspective, Police, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
I hope I’m a decent leader.
While I know there will be some people I’ve worked with, who definitely won’t hold that view … I hope the majority do.
Because – believe it or not – I try hard to be.
Sure, I make some mistakes.
And I can definitely be a pain in the ass.
But I am committed and invested in being the best boss I can be.
I consider myself fortunate because over the years, I’ve had incredible ‘teachers’.
From my parents to mentors to some old bosses … and of course, a few who were so shite, they taught me what not to do, haha.
And while there are many things I believe, adopt and hold dear, one of the most important is: always back your team in public and resolve disputes in private.
It sounds obvious … and it is … but it’s not always followed.
I’ve heard some shocking examples on Corporate Gaslighting … stuff that doesn’t just sound vicious, but the act of megalomaniacs.
But in terms of backing the team, there were few better than football manager legends, Brian Clough and Sir Alex Ferguson.
Yes, I accept they may have had some usual ways of doing this – and demonstrating this – but players knew that unless something exceptionally terrible had happened, their managers would always back them should they face public or managerial scrutiny.
Of course, there was a cost for this …
A cost that was simple but exhaustive.
And it was that the gift of being backed was reciprocated with dedication, focus and effort.
And that – to me – is key.
It’s OK to make mistakes.
It’s alright to sometimes mess things up.
But it can’t be because you were lazy or distracted.
I’ve said it many times, but I believe my job is to ensure that when someone in my team leaves, as they all will at some point, they go because they have a better job than they ever could have imagined.
Chosen for who they are, not just what they do.
Known for what they’ve created, not how well they’re known.
Chased for what they’ve changed, not what they maintained.
OK, there are some exceptions to that – mainly personal reasons, like love or a chance to chase something they’ve always wanted – but I believe I have a responsibility to them to help develop their natural talent, find and release their distinct strategic voice and move things out the way so they can create the most interesting shit of their lives.
It’s why my absolute worst scenario is someone leaving for a sideways move.
Oh my god, I would honestly feel I’d failed them.
And that’s why I place so much importance in backing them and showing my belief in them.
That doesn’t mean it’s blind faith.
We have very honest conversations a lot.
From gentle chats to bi-annual check-in/reviews … but they’re in private and focused on being through the lens of me wanting them to win.
Whether I achieve this is something only they can say. I hope most would agree with it [even those when we’ve parted ways] but if not, then I can assure them I’m working harder to be better.
The reason I say all this is because I saw something recently that I thought was a perfect example of backing the team.
It’s from the British Police.
Now they are getting a lot of stick at the moment. A lot totally deserved.
But this time it’s not them trying to justify an indefensible act … it’s something that resonated with me, because of Otis’ dysgraphia.
It was this.
The British Police – or maybe it’s all Police these days – have a bad reputation.
It’s manifested in mistrust and a lack of people wanting to sign up.
And while I fully appreciate they have a tough job and want to get better [as we saw with West Midland’s Police hiring my mate, Kay, to be their ‘artist in residence’ to better understand and connect to youth culture] … it’s acts like this that are more likely to help the public see the human side of the force as well as the compassionate side.
Anyone who runs a team knows it can be a painful job.
Some days it can feel more like being a cat-litter tray.
But when they know you’ll back them, they’ll back you with their talent, focus and commitment.
Well done Carlisle Police … we need more backing of people with neuro-diversity. Because the more we back those who are different, the more they will show the difference they can make.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Content, Context, Emotion, Empathy, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest
First of all happy birthday to Queen drummer, Roger Taylor.
He turns 74 today – which used to sound ancient, but now I’m 53, sounds terrifyingly close.
Hopefully when I’m his age I am also living my best life … though what that is, is evolving in ways I’m trying to work out – haha.
But this post is about my hometown, Nottingham.
I went there a month ago on my way to Cannes and I have to say it was a very emotional trip.
Part of this is because it was the first time I’d been there on my own since my Mum died.
Part of this is because it was the week after a terrible incident in the city where 3 innocent people were killed.
And part of this was because of a personal situation and challenge that I was – and still am – trying to work through.
In my few days there, I went on a bit of a history journey … visiting places that meant so much to me as a kid.
From shopping in Victoria City … visiting Rock City … passing my old schools … picking up some food from the local Asda, where my parents would shop every Friday evening … going to the crematorium to see the memorial for my parents … paying homage to the Nottingham Forest football stadium … right through to popping in and seeing my childhood home, that resulted in me bursting into tears in front of the new owner as it was much more impactful than I had dared imagine.
Yeah, it was one big sentimental and emotional journey.
But amongst all the memories, there was something that popped up that I wasn’t expecting.
Something I thought had died and I’d recently written about.
This.
Yep, Raleigh Bikes were back.
Better yet, they were on Maid Marion Way … a thoroughfare of the city that meant everyone would see them.
OK, they aren’t what they used to be – they’re owned by a Dutch company for a start – but they exist and are still based in Nottingham.
As I wrote in my post about Raleigh last month … seeing this brand that defined and promoted my city to the World, die was incredibly tough.
When you’re a kid you look for signs you’re living in a place that is full of promise and hope … a place that let’s you feel you have a bright future … and in my earliest days, with Raleigh making globally known bikes and Nottingham Forest being Kings of Europe, I did. But then, when Forest fell away and Raleigh died, it shook me to my core.
I appreciate that’s the sort of melodrama only a young kid can have, but I wasn’t too wrong to be fair … so seeing the brand alive in my city – especially after a week that saw the whole county in mourning for the needless death of so many – gave hope.
A sense that even in the darkest times, we can move forward.
Given how fucked the UK is right now, that’s worth its weight in gold.
And I’m happy. Because while I don’t live in Nottingham, I’ll always belong there.