Highs make it all worthwhile

Jul 15 2008 By Pat Murphy

This weekly exercise in self-indulgence began on a high and ended with one of the great modern sporting occasions.

Telstra Stadium, Sydney, November 2003 – England win the Rugby World Cup in heroic fashion, with Martin Johnson displaying just what constitutes leadership. Then Australia’s Prime Minister John Howard handed out losers’ medals to his lads with all the grace of someone who’d suddenly remembered he’d left the oven on at home.

I haven’t laughed so much since Readers’ Digest lost my address.

Fast forward to Wimbledon, July 2008 and Roger Federer as Rafael Nadal battled themselves to a standstill in an epic encounter that epitomised all we love about sport. Gracious comments in the gloaming from both players afterwards and Nadal underlined his class the following morning by flying out to Stuttgart to explain why tendonitis meant he couldn’t play in the Mercedes Cup.

A lesser man would have sent one of his underlings to handle the public relations. If there are still role models with the style of Nadal and Federer, there’s hope for sport.

Andrew Flintoff’s another. His noble gesture of commiseration to Brett Lee at the end of that nail-biting Edgbaston Test was on a par with that iconic photograph of Pele and Bobby Moore embracing in the 1970 World Cup. Put those two photographs plus the Federer/Nadal one on every bedroom wall of sports-mad youngsters and hammer home to them that this is the true essence of competitive sport. Not choreographed celebrations, snarling at officials, puerile glove-punching from batsmen and unco-ordinated high fives.

That 2005 Ashes Series was a stellar seven weeks for this column. Every day was anticipated by we veteran hacks with all the glee of Shane Warne at the sight of an England tail-ender. I can’t recall another time when we’d babble away all evening about the day’s events over our pints of Old Thumper, then set the alarm clocks to get to the ground early next morning.

The excellence of Channel 4’s coverage helped unite the nation for just a few weeks, sucking in agnostics as well as anoraks. The Ashes was the water-cooler topic for a blissful few weeks. Shame that won’t be the case next summer, when I confidently expect England to regain the historic urn.

Hardly anybody will be watching it on TV because it will be on Sky Sports, that enduring triumph of marketing hype over substance.

A telling quote from a Sky spokesman appeared in a broadsheet last Sunday. When asked to comment on the paucity of Sky viewers of England’s international games, the spokesman said, ‘We don’t see the number of people watching as the important thing’.

That’ll console those who’d like their children involved early in such a great game and don’t see why they should throw money at Rupert Murdoch.

And don’t expect the situation to improve for terrestrial viewers when the TV contract runs out after the Ashes series. Professional cricket is being administered increasingly by the bean counters, those who have forged careers outside the game rather than worshipped long and hard at the altar.

Football remained fertile ground for any fulminating columnist. There was the preposterous importance Sky attached to the next live match, groin strain or rumoured transfer, with the rest of the media slavishly following suit, timorously concerned they’d appear out-of-touch.

The dogmatic assertion that so-and-so was a ‘great player’ irked. That adjective should be used sparingly by sports reporters. Perhaps proof of at least 20 years in the business before being allowed to write it. You need an historical perspective and the evidence of your own eyes before dusting off the word ‘great’. Reporters shouldn’t be complicit in managers and players boosting egos by devaluing that adjective.

Sven-Goran Eriksson never let us down, turning pallid under-achievement into an art form, saying nothing of any interest in public. Without Eriksson’s ‘laissez faire’ policy towards his pampered players, we would never have enjoyed the Wags in Baden-Baden during the 2006 World Cup, who provided more consistent entertainment than their blokes.

Jose Mourinho gave us some laughs until hubris and his ego got the better of him. He was always more interesting than the pragmatic product offered on the pitch by his millionaire players. But then, in the harshest manner, he was reminded that you don’t mess with billionaires who have no responsibility to anyone but themselves.

Roman Abramovich, Peter Kenyon and Mourinho achieved the near-impossible. They made Manchester United popular among neutrals. It became fashionable again to admire the ideals of Sir Alex Ferguson, although that has to be qualified. He can bleat as long as he likes about Real Madrid tapping up Cristiano Ronaldo, but we remember how long he coveted the likes of Jaap Stam, Ruud Van Nistlerooy and Owen Hargreaves, to the distaste of their clubs at the time.

But at least Ferguson’s on the side of the angels when it comes to how you play the game. So is Arsene Wenger. Arsenal have come close to trophies in the last three years, but no cigar – yet at their best they are bewitching. A few more visits to opticians might help Wenger assess the transgressions of his players with more accuracy, but he remains a brilliant judge of talent and a laudable idealist.

The progress of Aston Villa under Martin O’Neill has been one of the most encouraging developments on our local football patch. Doug Ellis’ time had gone, but he can always point to his capture of O’Neill in August 2006, even though every consortium interested in buying Villa wanted him to succeed the hapless David O’Leary. It’s still a mystery what Deadly Doug saw in O’Leary, who managed to unite all the Villa factions in enmity.

If O’Neill maintains his harmonious partnership with Randy Lerner, Villa will continue to prosper. They’ve been united over the Gareth Barry saga, doing their best to strike a blow for traditional values, while aware that players hold most of the aces these days.

But O’Neill, although idiosyncratic, knows what he’s about. There is no reason why Villa won’t make the Champions’ League next season nor a full squad assembled for the off next month. Trust the manager.

The same applies to West Brom and Birmingham City. Alex McLeish is dedicated and committed to attractive football and Tony Mowbray will ensure the Baggies at least remain true to the club’s traditional style. But will West Brom ever garner enough money to become a major player?
And how long will David Sullivan and the Gold brothers stay at the Blues? I hope for some time.

Blues are the most newsworthy football club on this patch and Sullivan certainly adds to the gaiety of the nation. I enjoyed his broadsides in my direction after he was criticised in this column following relegation in May.

Don’t leave it too long before you call again, David. And I’m glad that Steve Bruce continues to make Blues handsome profits on players he signed before you saw the back of him.

And with that, I lay down my burden. Thanks for the feedback, criticisms and occasional vituperation. A columnist hates to be ignored…