In a final appeal to the electorate on Wednesday evening John Major told them they were about to make a crucial decision
In a final appeal to the electorate on Wednesday evening, John Major told them they were about to make "a crucial decision". Well, of course they were, for crucial, properly speaking, means just that: it defines the point at which a decision has to be made, so all he seemed to be saying was that there was going to be a decisive decision, which is about as tautological as you can get. The Latin crux (genitive crucis) meant a cross - not the sort with which voters recorded their choices on Thursday, but a pole with a crossbar such as that on which wrongdoers used to be crucified. Also a fingerpost, which is where the English meaning comes in - do we go left or right? However, Mr Major's use of it last week shows how far the word has wandered, as words will. Having at first been used for a decisive point - in a scientific experiment, perhaps, or in a story: would the hero drown, or would one bound set him free? - it then came to mean "difficult" or simply "important" (which I suspect is all Mr Major meant), so you'd have theatre critics saying that "the crucial point about this play is that it's not to be taken seriously", or company directors attending "crucial" meetings of the board at which, after all, nothing much was decided. In a thoughtful election-day leader the Daily Telegraph declared that there were "crucial differences between the parties", but again I doubt if it meant much more than "important", the word having lost its metaphorical force. For really dead metaphors, though, one goes not to the broadsheets but to the tabloids. The Sun was telling us on Thursday that "health is a close second on Mr Blair's hit-list", as though he were about to have it bumped off, and the Mirror wrote of "a massive chasm" between the parties, causing a word once eloquent of weight and solidity to vanish, as it were, into thin air..
As demolition balls rain upon the undefended ramparts of the latest batch of our sporting citadels to be condemned as old and unsuitable, the more tradition-sensitive amongst us are urged to ignore the ruins and delight instead at the gleaming stock of new stadiums that will emerge in their place This is not easy. Much as we force ourselves to welcome the age of Meccano architecture, pristine tiers of plastic seats, executive accommodation, ample comfort stations and rows of refreshment opportunities, there is something unsettling about destruction when it involves the sites of so many of our memories. Cardiff Arms Park was gutted by bargain hunters last weekend before they began dismantling the home of Welsh rugby in readiness for a new stadium on the same site but at right angles to the old one. The arguments about the merits of the development are likely to be still going on when fans file into the new place in 1999.At least, the Arms Park ghosts won't have to move far unlike their kindred spirits at the famous old football grounds shortly to become rubble. Stoke City's Victoria Ground is the oldest of all League grounds, with the longest continuous occupancy and the largest remaining terrace. But, even after 119 years, sentiment won't keep the bulldozers from the door and they'll be allowed in after Stoke play West Bromwich Albion today.
West Brom were the ground's first visitors in 1878, so there'll be a sense of symmetry as well as history.Bolton Wanderers have just ended their 102-year tenure at Burnden Park but local teams will be allowed, at a price, to play on the pitch until 1 June when it will be cut up and sold. Bolton, who played in front of 70,000 in 1933 will move to their new 25,000-capacity ground which will be called the Reebok Stadium - named, apparently, after one of their trainers.Derby County have lived at the cramped but atmospheric Baseball Ground for the same number of years and before they move to Pride Park they have a match against Arsenal on 11 May. Sunderland's occupation of intimidating Roker Park ended officially after 99 years yesterday with the Premiership game against Everton but the hard-hats will be held at bay until later in the month when Liverpool, the first visitors in 1898, will play a friendly finale. For a fiver you can have your name printed in the last Roker programme and for the same price you have your name on a brick to be used to build the replacement ground half a mile away at Wearmouth.Dilapidation is not quite the reason behind Brighton & Hove Albion's controversial move from the Goldstone Road after 93 years but the supporters have already taken their farewells and large parts of the ground as well.The death last week of Lord Taylor of Gosforth provided a reminder that this urge for resettlement is not wholly born of a desire for more glittering and lucrative premises. Lord Taylor's report on the 1989 Hillsborough disaster emphasised the need for all-seater grounds and was the catalyst for an improvement that, helped by the demands of Euro 96, has provided the nation with some of the world's finest grounds.The upgrade in facilities had already been kick-started following the tragic fire in the stand at Bradford's Valley Parade.