quarta-feira, 5 de fevereiro de 2025

Desporto - Sumo (Torneio de Janeiro)

Mongolian Hoshoryu Named 74th Yokozuna After Winning the New Year Basho

Mongolian Hoshoryu was promoted to sumo's highest rank of yokozuna on Wednesday, January 29, three days after winning his second Emperor's Cup in a grueling three-way playoff at the New Year Basho.

Hoshoryu becomes the ancient sport's 74th grand champion and the first new yokozuna since fellow Mongolian Terunofuji was promoted after the 2021 Nagoya Grand Sumo Tournament.

The 25-year-old Hoshoryu won his first Emperor's Cup as a sekiwake in July 2023 and was subsequently promoted to ozeki.

Hoshoryu finished the November 2024 tournament in Kyushu with 13 wins and two losses, just missing out on the Emperor's Cup, which was won by ozeki Kotozakura.

That put Hoshoryu in position to go into the New Year Basho as a candidate for promotion to grand champion.

When he lost to three rank-and-filers over the first nine days, doubts arose as to whether he could get promoted. A championship-caliber record is widely regarded as being 13-2.

Impressive Finish for Hoshoryu

But Hoshoryu finished strongly, winning his last six bouts to close out at 12-3 and then prevailing in a three-way playoff against Oho and Kinbozan which pretty much sealed the deal.

Masayuki Yamauchi, the head of the Yokozuna Deliberation Council, said Hoshoryu had been "tried and tested" over the 17 bouts he fought at the New Year tourney.

The promotion comes at an opportune time given that injury-plagued Terunofuji retired during the first week of the New Year Basho, meaning the sport could have been without a grand champion for the first time since 1993.

A Versatile Sumo Wrestler

An explosive and technically skilled grappler, Hoshoryu has displayed a penchant over the years for relying on a variety of techniques to rack up wins.

No standard pusher-thruster, he likes to use arm throws and leg kicks to defeat his opponents.

The 6th Mongolian Yokozuna

Hoshoryu, whose real name is Sugarragchaa Byambasuren, follows in the footsteps of his famous uncle, former yokozuna Asashoryu, who won a total of 25 Emperor's Cups in a colourful and sometimes controversial career.

He becomes the sixth Mongolian to reach the rank of yokozuna following Asashoryu, Hakuho, Harumafuji, Kakuryu and Terunofuji.

"I will continue to work hard with a strong determination in order not to tarnish the title of yokozuna," Hoshoryu said, according to Kyodo News, at a promotion ceremony at Tokyo's Tatsunami stable.

He added, "This has been my dream ever since I entered the sumo world. I can't find the words to describe this happy feeling, [and] I will try to elevate myself higher and higher. No matter what happens, I will stand strong."

Sumo hasn't had a Japanese grand champion since Kisenosato retired in 2019.

At 25, Hoshoryu should have plenty of time to win multiple championship trophies. While nobody would expect him to match the record 45 won by his compatriot Hakuho, he certainly could surpass the 10 won by Terunofuji.

Author: Jim Armstrong

The author is a longtime journalist who has covered sports in Japan for over 25 years. You can find his articles on SportsLook.

The Spectator - Rory Stewart is no match for J.D. Vance

(personal underlines)

(LBC - Any doubt? I would say: That's all folks...music)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/rory-stewart-is-no-match-for-jd-vance/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=LNCH%20%2020250204%20%20House%20ads%20%20HT+CID_4fcc657fa02e32aed562440f05086423

Rory Stewart is no match for J.D. Vance

Julie Burchill4 February 2025, 6:00am

I was highly amused to see that JD Vance has administered a right old ‘fagging’ – or whatever public school boys call it – to the ghastly Rory Stewart. Better known in some quarters as ‘Florence of Belgravia’, Stewart has developed a habit of dashing about in a dish-dash in search of broadcasting dosh, pouting all the while like an ambitious member of an all-boy fifth-form drama club determined to play Portia. Thanks to his inability to avoid spouting off, Stewart has embroiled himself in a spat on X with the new vice president of the US, JD Vance.

In an interview with Fox News last week, Vance said:

It’s a very Christian concept that you love your family and then you love your neighbour, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens, and then after that, you can focus and prioritise the rest of the world. A lot of the far left has completely inverted that.

Stewart couldn’t help himself, and opined on X that this was ‘a bizarre take on John 15:12-13 – less Christian and more pagan tribal. We should start worrying when politicians become theologians, assume to speak for Jesus, and tell us in which order to love’. To which Vance answered – thrillingly: ‘The problem with Rory and people like him is that he has an IQ of 110 and thinks he has an IQ of 130. This false arrogance drives so much elite failure over the last 40 years.’

The reason I found this thrilling is because working-class people who have become successful in their field generally don’t rub their achievements in the faces of their less talented but more privileged colleagues. Even despite the huge handicap we started with, and the fact that our class-ridden society has seen social mobility – never going great guns – savagely reversing in recent years.

There are several reasons why we meritocrats don’t crow more in the manner of Vance. American success stories of humble origin are prouder; they’re less liable than Brits to make themselves into cuddly mascots who accentuate the worst alleged qualities of their class, like the ghastly pugilist and toilet-seat-breaker John Prescott. Also, no one wants to be called ‘chippy’ – a slur only ever used to describe the white section of the proletariat who complain about the unfair set up, I’ve noticed – probably stemming from plain cowardice at the wrath that would descend on the mockers should they sneer at anyone non-white. Also, meritocrats by their very nature swerve anything that sounds like our old mate the politics of envy.

Vance is not just the second most powerful man in the world’s most powerful nation, but was born into poverty and abuse, raised by his grandparents due to his mother’s drug addiction. He describes himself as a ‘Scots-Irish hillbilly’ from the Appalachian region and might well have been described as ‘white trash’ by his alleged betters – a ‘deplorable’ (Clinton, H) or ‘garbage’ (Biden) at least. As is often the way of those who are poor enough to be patriots, he joined the military as a teenager, afterwards utilising the excellent GI Bill to study political science and philosophy and then attending Yale Law School. During his first year, he began his majestic memoir, the best-selling Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis, published in 2016. He’s 40 years old.

Rory Stewart’s CV, at the age of 52, isn’t quite so striking – and very predicable for one literally to the manor born. He was expensively educated at Eton and Oxford. He joined the diplomatic service and became an MP. He has, over the years, carved himself a cushy billet with the BBC, making several series: The Legacy of Lawrence of Arabia; Afghanistan: The Great Game – A Personal View by Rory Stewart and Border Country: The Story of Britain’s Lost Middleland. He hosted the Radio 4 podcast The Long History Of Argument as well as cosying up to the ghastly Alastair Campbell for The Rest Is Politics, best described as the tubular bells of podcasts.

Stewart is a cut-and-dried, dyed-in-the-wool member of the establishment. He’s not some exotic outlier, despite his liking for posing in the flowing robes of Araby like someone who was enthralled by too many Fry’s Turkish Delight commercials at an impressionable age.

That’s why it was so typically cloth-eared of him to take on a man like Vance: of all the dumb things anyone can do, a privileged person trying to appear cleverer than an under-privileged person who has made it big has to be the dumbest. When he brought up the IQ thing, Vance was basically saying ‘You, like many of your kind, had a great start in life, and you are still nowhere near as smart as me.’ Rory Stewart’s dad was – surprise! – a diplomat and high-flying government functionary. This brings to mind something Mrs T’s character says in the new Thatcher/Walden drama Brian and Maggie about some Tory MPs: ‘There are so many of them who didn’t earn their place; they knew someone who knew someone, and they bluff their way through.’

It’s a fact: if you reach the top of your profession without having had family money, a famous name or inside help, you are a really exceptional person. You’re far cleverer than those who had a head start. It’s so simple that saying it aloud – as Vance did – can sound quite shocking and rude. I’d love to know how Stewart will react; maybe he’ll even use this opportunity to keep those luscious lips buttoned and learn something rather than ceaselessly offering his precious opinion and getting it wrong.

Maybe all those – from actors to journalists – who haven’t made it totally on merit might learn something here. A handy little momento mori when your head gets a little too big might be to look in the bathroom mirror and say ‘I am Brooklyn Beckham…’ in the manner of the Spartacus film highlight. That way, you will hopefully avoid the curse of Stewart, flouncing through life thinking you’re something special when the best that can be said of you is that you had a very good start in life. And make the best of your hand-me-down name while you can, because AI is no respecter of lucky sperm, I’ll wager – and no one’s easier to replace than someone who didn’t make it on merit.

The Spectator - Why Japan is best at whisky, tailoring, cheese, pastries… I could go on

(personal underlines)

(LBC - it's not a matter of fashion as it is in the West. It's a matter of way of being. Got it?...)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/how-japan-first-led-to-cultural-domination/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=LNCH%20%2020250205%20%20House%20Ads%20%20SM+CID_841256c73b31b9c4ea77f6089c0de33b

Why Japan is best at whisky, tailoring, cheese, pastries… I could go on

The country is more than happy to appropriate

Philip Patrick5 February 2025, 5:00am

Many people visit Japan because of its food but few, surely, have pastries in mind. In fact, Japan has no discernible tradition in this culinary realm at all. But that didn’t stop a trio of Japanese bakers from winning the biannual pastry world cup, pushing the fancied host nation France into a chastening second place.

Japan won last time too and thus became the first country ever to retain the title, which you might suppose would make this big news here in Tokyo. But the media has hardly mentioned it, probably because this kind of national stereotype-busting triumph is becoming quite normal.

For example, Japan, believe it or not, is now one of the best countries in the world for pizza, especially the Neapolitan version. The trend began in 2010 when Akinari Makishima of Nagoya became the world champion pizza maker, beating off 150 competitors from Italy, Spain and the US in the process.

Japanese confectioners are now among the world’s best, with the chocolate shops of Kyoto gaining international renown. Even Japanese cheese, in a country hardly known for its dairy products, has won prizes. The Camembert-like Sakura variety from Hokkaido was once awarded the gold medal at the Mountain Cheese Olympics in Switzerland.

As for drinks, a Japanese Scotch first beat out the home-grown versions in 2014, with one judge remarking on Suntory’s Yamazaki single malt’s ‘near-indescribable genius’. And that was no fluke. Last August, in the so-called Judgement of Glasgow, a panel of hard-drinking Glaswegian whisky experts gave Japanese varieties the nod in three out of five categories. Oh, and the world’s best bartender and champion cocktail shaker is… Japanese.

It is not just food and drink. Japan has taken on the international masters at their own game in menswear. If you fancy a pair of bespoke shoes, the best in the world may not be found in Savile Row or Mayfair but Shibuya ward in Tokyo, home to the atelier of Yohei Fukuda (check out his website – if there is such a thing as shoe-porn, this is it).

Similarly, probably the best men’s bags in the world are to be found in Paris, but made by a Japanese designer, Satoru Hosoi. As for suits and coats, Kotaro Miyahara of Sartorio Corcos of Florence has a cult following and years-long waiting list.

Why are the Japanese so good at acquiring these highly specialised skills? Partly it is the deeply ingrained stoical work ethic. The Japanese will graft, often for little money, for years on end, and put up with pretty Spartan conditions in the process. Yohei Fukuda, for example, lived in a dismal homestay in London with a family who often didn’t pay the electricity bills, which meant frequent power outages. He was also burgled twice but stayed the course, getting a job at master shoemakers John Lobb before coming home and going it alone.

The Japanese are also phenomenally dexterous, which may be a consequence of all those annoying, fussy procedures that must be mastered to function in Japanese society – the tea ceremonies, the exacting way you are expected to wrap gifts, the rules governing angles and durations of bowing. I often wondered if they might be more trouble than they were worth. Perhaps they are.

I couldn’t quite see the value of spending the thousands of hours necessary to master the precise strokes of the 2,000 Kanji required for basic literacy, or the care and effort needed for chopsticks when spoons, forks and knives were available. Nor could I quite appreciate the time and trouble the Japanese would take over assembling their character bentos – the very precise lunchboxes that wives often make for their husbands – or seasonally decorated hand-crafted sweets, wagashi. And as for origami… why bother?

But then I had a eureka moment – or a Socrates moment, perhaps – for it was the philosopher’s choice of Xanthippe for a wife, reputedly the most difficult, sharpest-tongued woman in Athens, that gave me the answer. The difficulty is the point. As Socrates said when asked why he had chosen such a trying woman, he replied: ‘If I can put up with her, I can put up with anyone.’ So, mastering Kanji prepares you for the arduous journey required for the acquisition of any artisanal skill.

There is a historical parallel to all this. Arguably, the way the Japanese have gone out into the world and brought back technical mastery reflects the way modern Japan came into being. In the 19th century, as Japan reinvented itself upon the close of its 250-year period of isolation, emissaries were dispatched around Europe to cherry-pick the best examples of modern governance, which were then replicated in Japan. Thus, the French gendarmerie, the German education and legal systems, and the British parliamentary system were incorporated into the reborn Meiji Japan. It is still going on. Artisans, chefs and tailors are the new emissaries – the new cherry-pickers. It’s a Japan First strategy, courtesy of the rest of the world.

segunda-feira, 3 de fevereiro de 2025

The Spectator - How some atheists fell for the new religion of gender identity

(personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/how-atheists-fell-for-the-new-religion-of-gender-identity/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BOCH%20%2020250104%20%20House%20Ads%20%20HT+CID_02bc8e6565a4e9d33203551d98b3e566

How some atheists fell for the new religion of gender identity

Debbie Hayton31 December 2024, 11:01am

The Freedom from Religion Foundation (FFRF) is probably not on the radar of most people in the UK. It’s a US-based non-profit organisation that campaigns for the separation of church and state. Some years ago, the Telegraph reported on its campaign to remove Christianity from Christmas celebrations in American state schools.

But it seems that this association of ‘atheists, agnostics and skeptics of any pedigree’ has fallen hook line and sinker for gender identity ideology. Yesterday, it was reported that Richard Dawkins had quit the FFRF Board over its ‘imposition’ of a new religion

His departure followed two other scientists – Jerry Coyne and Steven Pinker – after the FFRF retracted a paper Coyne had written to counter an earlier piece that concluded, ‘a woman is whoever she says she is’. Those were the words of Kat Grant (pronouns: they/them) who has argued that ‘a gender diverse model allows womanhood to be defined on internal, personal terms, not outwardly visible characteristics’.

Personally I think that is nonsense, but it is an opinion that Grant is entitled to hold. However, ‘skeptics of any pedigree’ are likely to include those who take a different line. That’s where Coyne came in. He argued that Grant’s conclusion was a tautology, and went on to state that, ‘In biology… a woman can be simply defined in four words: “An adult human female.” ’

Coyne then questioned the FFRF’s incursion into gender activism, pointing out that tendentious arguments about the definition of sex are not part of the association’s mission to educate the public about atheism, and keeping religion out of government and social policies.

That could have been the end of it – a philosophical disagreement and mild criticism of the approach taken within a niche organisation – and Spectator readers would have been none the wiser. Dawkins described the decision to publish Grant’s ‘silly and unscientific’ article as a ‘minor error of judgment’. That’s hardly something for anyone to resign over.

The issue that is of wider concern is the censorious approach taken by those who hold to transgender ideology. The FFRF removed Coyne’s paper and posted a grovelling apology in its place:

‘Publishing this post was an error of judgment, and we have decided to remove it as it does not reflect our values or principles. We regret any distress caused by this post and are committed to ensuring it doesn’t happen again.’

It seems that those values and principles are no longer to keep the old religions out of schools and public institutions but to impose a new quasi-religious philosophy upon them. The idea that men and women are defined simply by who they say they are flies in the face not only of biological science but common sense. We all know what a man or a woman is when we see one. And, whatever Kat Grant might like to believe, those who claim to be non-binary still have a sex and that sex matters.

As a Christian, I take issue with the FFRF’s claim that ‘The history of Western civilization shows us that most social and moral progress has been brought about by persons free from religion.’ The scientific enlightenment took place in a society rooted in Christian traditions. Those who are truly confident in their faith do not fear challenge, and certainly do not censor mere differences of opinion.

Gender identity ideology might well share the hallmarks of religion – ‘complete with dogma, blasphemy, and heretics’ according to Pinker – but it appears to offer neither confidence nor certainty to its adherents, if they cannot abide those who might think differently to them.

An atheistic organisation worth its salt would oppose these movements in the same way that it opposes established religion, so Coyne, Pinker and Dawkins are right to walk away. But maybe the key lesson from this sorry debacle is that it is not so easy to expunge the need for religion from human beings than atheists might like to think. If there is a god-shaped hole in us then without established religion, something else is likely to take its place.

Desporto - Andebol (Portugal Alemanha)

Para o Mundial.

Umas partidas emotivas! Um lugar sensacional! Uma equipa e pêras! "Chapeau"

The Spectator - Cartoons

The Spectator - The Arts Council should subsidise footballers

(personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/the-arts-council-should-subsidise-footballers/?status=Non-subs&utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BLND%20%2020250122%20%20HOUSE%20ADS%20%20IH+CID_e702cbd71c72e6260076fc45d881ad2d

The Arts Council should subsidise footballers

We need more beauty in the beautiful game

22 January 2025, 5:01am

The Norwegian footballer Erling Haaland will, upon commencement of his new nine-year contract extension with Manchester City, be paid £1 million a week. On pocketing his first colossal pay cheque (which includes sponsorship income), Haaland will cruise past his rivals in the traditional European leagues. Real Madrid’s Kylian Mbappé is forced to get by on a paltry €45 million a year, Liverpool’s Mohamed Salah on his derisory €18 million, and Ballon d’Or winner Rodri with his piddling £9 million.

Has the world gone insane? One million pounds a week, for kicking a ball around for a couple of hours? It is a sum that might make Croesus himself blush. The word ‘obscene’ is often attached to such gargantuan salaries for sports players and entertainers, and it is hard to avoid when you compare it with what a hard-working manual labourer has to get by on, or a teacher, or even a freelance journalist. Can it possibly be justified? And how do you place a financial value on a footballer?

The first is a vexatious question because there is no satisfactory answer. The obvious response is no, but that sounds prissy and mean-spirited (Starmer-ish?). Those who would say yes would doubtless argue Haaland is not just a supremely gifted player, but that he helps generate huge income for his employer while bringing moments of intense excitement to millions. Plus, after those nine-and-a-half years, he could have a half-century of post-playing life to support himself and his family. But a million a week? It still sounds bonkers.

As for the second question – how do you place a financial value on a footballer? – this is complex. In terms of pure on-field contribution, Haaland is precious indeed – a veritable goal factory. He rarely gets injured and is still only 24. Even off the ball, he has value: he is fearsome to behold and strikes terror into defenders’ hearts with his mere towering, marauding Viking appearance. He is clearly one of the most effective and thus valuable players in the world.

However, I would be tempted to introduce an aesthetic element into the equation. As a lover of the joga bonito, I’d argue that a player’s artistic contribution ought to be a factor in evaluating their financial worth. Here Haaland is on shakier ground. He is a power player – dynamic, fast, immensely strong – but not exactly a fantasista. I could watch reels of Messi, Ronaldinho, Maradona or Glenn Hoddle (as a Spurs fan) all night, but Haaland? He has apparently scored an amazing 264 goals in his career, but I’m struggling to remember any of them.

Perhaps that rare breed of footballers who arouse an almost sensual pleasure in the viewer deserves a financial premium. If clubs are unwilling to pay it (and it may not translate into trophies, after all), perhaps the government should, with Arts Council grants awarded to the most creative players. I’d nominate Matt Le Tissier for a retrospective payment on this basis.

This isn’t as mad as it sounds. Lionel Messi was recognised as a tourist asset to Barcelona and Spain, such was his must-see, bucket-list attraction even for non-football fans. And there is a precedent: the Finnish government used to pay its greatest artists an annual stipend, as recognition of their genius and contribution to the nation. The composer Sibelius benefited from such an award for much of his career.

In Haaland’s case, though, his salary may not so much reflect his value as a player, but his value to his particular club at a particular time, and evidence of a distorted market. Just as a struggling salesman buys a flashy car to project an aura of success, so Manchester City – currently a catastrophic fifth in the Premier League – may be attempting to signal confidence in their future.

The enormous figures could also indicate the threat posed by the seemingly limitless resources of the upstart Saudi league. Haaland’s £1 million a week still leaves him well behind Cristiano Ronaldo’s £3 million at Al-Nassr and Neymar’s £2 million at Al-Hilal. Manchester City needed to pay well over the odds to secure Haaland. It also sends a message to the Saudis that, however many sacks of gold they offer, City can still compete.

There has been outrage at Haaland’s contract revelations, but before we get too pious, who among us would turn down a salary increase? ‘I’d like to be paid less, please,’ is perhaps a sentence that has never been uttered in the history of humanity. And if anyone is going to get rich off football, it should be the players.

There is surely a question, though, of whether, for the long-term health of the game, such enormous sums are sustainable. With such stratospherically high salaries, the average fan occupies another planet from the demi-gods on the pitch. We may start to feel ever more alienated and resentful. The gap, already huge, is threatening to become simply unimaginable. And where might that lead? Erling Haaland has two private jets. I can’t even afford a car.