Ups and Downs

When I was 18 I went to Africa on my gap year. I taught at Chengelo School in Zambia for 8 months, and on one occasion, me and a few friends spent a week cycling through the South Luangwa Game Park. It was about the most exciting thing I had ever done (although I have since built an Excel macro that highlights alternate rows of a selected range), and it was also about as close to "roughing it" as I have ever come. We cycled hard through difficult terrain for about 8 hours each day; we camped out every night; I wore the same pair of pants (British) and socks for the entire week; our food was meagre - even on the few nights when Tim "Butterfingers" Brown didn't spill the prized packet of Supernoodles all over the African earth; and on one occasion Matthew almost got eaten by a hippo.

And then, on the last night, we arrived at this place. The owners had children at the school were we were teaching, and incredibly generously allowed all 4 of us to stay there for the night.

This was incredibly generous for at least 2 reasons:

1. A night in the lodge usually costs hundreds of dollars, and

2. No sooner had we arrived, than the aforementioned Mr. Brown launched a savage verbal assault on the family actually paying to stay in the lodge, unfortunately demonstrating that his conversational adroitness matched his manual dexterity:

Nice husband of paying family: "So what do you do Tim?"

Brown: "Well I was studying law at Christ Church, Oxford. But I dropped out as I really hated the course and all the people were horrible. What do you do?"

Nice husband of paying family: "I'm a lawyer."

Brown: "Ah. OK. Where did you study?"

Nice husband of paying family: "Christ Church, Oxford."

All: [Nervous laughter. Sound of cutlery scraping plates.]

Anyway, we arrived at Tafika and took our first showers for a week looking up at the stars. They were hot. (The stars were also hot I suppose, but I was primarily referring to the showers). We feasted as lavishly upon barbecued meat as the malaria-ridden hordes of mosquitos had feasted on our exposed flesh over the preceding week. The bed was the comfiest I had ever slept in. It was paradise.

And the great thing was that the hardship of the previous week made the luxury and comfort even more exquisite.

And it's the same with relegation.

The bottom 3 teams in the "EPL" (grrr...) each year get relegated to the (rather ridiculously-named) Championship; the bottom 4 teams in the Championship get relegated to the (even more moronically-named) 1st division etc. DOwn about 127 levels, until you reach the Ryman Stationers' League, the Unibond Northern Premier League, and the Beazer Homes League.

American sports do not have relegation, and I think it's a flaw in their structure. (And actually, come to think of it, it's another pretty good example of their cushy communism...).

If you're a Bolton fan or a West Brom fan or a Middlesbrough fan in England (and admittedly their total combined fanbase can be counted on the fingers of one finger [sic.]), you spend most weeks with the heartache and frustration of watching your team get outclassed and beaten. You scrap, you struggle, you win the occasional 6-pointer, you sneak a point at the Emirates by performing GBH on Arsenal, and it all comes down to the last day of the season, when you need 6 other teams to lose, and to beat Man United by at least 13 goals at Old Trafford yourselves. And some (most in the case of West Brom) years, you lose, and you go down. And it's misery. But some years, results go in your favour, you pull it out of the bag, against all the odds Akinbiyi is more prolific than my hyperlinking and nets 14 at the Stretford End. And you survive.

And it's fantastic!

It's as good as winning the league. It's probably better, because you haven't been spoiled by success.

Supporting Man United, this feeling is not one that I have experienced much as a fan (although I am also an avid follower of the mighty Barrow AFC, who do their best to compensate in most years).

But the sports teams I play for are, pretty much without exception, about as competent as Parcelforce. My record as King's College Football Captain was:

Played: 9

Won: 0

Drawn: 0

Lost: 9

Scored: 2

Conceded: 54

Needless to say, that year we were relegated (and, to compound the despair, we lost our lucrative deal with the Curry King, when our sponsor realised that we were to sporting excellence as Tiger Woods is to marital fidelity).

But in a thrilling climax to the 2008 season, Old Habs II cricket team - once again despite the shackles of my staggeringly incompetent leadership - conjured a couple of victories from nowhere, benefited from the bankruptcy of a relegation rival, and survived by the narrowest of margins in the (this time more aptly-named) 10th division of the Hertfordshire Cricket League. Honestly, I think it was a better feeling than if we had got promoted.

Here's some reasons why relegation is great:

- It keeps things interesting for unsuccessful teams, right until the last day of the season.

- It gives unsuccessful teams a taste of glory.

- It allows teams in lower divisions to fill the vacated places (i.e. it keeps them hungry and rewards their success).

- And...the hardship (or the threat of hardship) makes the Coppinger's guesthouse even more glorious.

Dear America, Relegation is great. You should try it.