SPECTATOR SPORT

Winners and losers

Simon Barnes

WELL, no difficulties in selecting the sportsman of the year. Inevitably, my nomi- nation goes to the chap in the Springbok jersey who made the rugby union world cup final in Johannesburg an occasion to remember. The man in question, of course, is Nelson Mandela.

It was a sporting gesture that soared beyond sport, a cute political stunt that winged its way beyond politics. For once, it seemed, sport actually mattered and the win for South Africa was a curiously satisfy- ing business. A conjuring trick: the sport of apartheid had become the sport of unity. It was as if Martin Luther King had become President of the United States and marked some state occasion by wearing a Ku Klux Klan outfit.

The reason sport matters is because it doesn't matter in the least. This assertion is backed up by one of my five runners-up for hero of the year. This was Jonathan Edwards, who did a bit of winging and soar- ing of his own. He extended the world triple jump record by an extraordinary 31 centimetres. A quantum leap, perhaps.

Afterwards, he said that he was 'only jumping into a sandpit'. The wide-armed shrug after his jump was, after Mandela in green and gold, the most compelling image of the sporting year. Note, however, the tendency of the sporting hero to merge with the eejit. There is a bit of the hero in all sporting eejits, a bit of the eejit in all sporting heroes. Edwards summed up his sane perspective on sport and life by explaining, 'I believe the world is consumed by Satan and it is important to shine forth with the light.' You can't argue with facts like that.

. Next runner-up is Michael Atherton, the England cricket captain. Not only does he manage to treat the two impostors just the same, but also his own reputation is enhanced in disaster as in triumph. He came out of the horrendous tour of Australia stronger than ever, and rose again after a hideous innings defeat against West Indies in the summer. But he makes the short-list for his batting — the wonderful 492-ball defiance of South Africa in the second Test of the current series. It lasted two days, and was as fine a defensive innings as has ever been played.

The next nomination was earned in about half a second. It goes to Rob Andrew. It was the defining moment of a Career: That Kick. It came in the last second of the quar- ter-final of the rugby union world cup against Australia. Ball to Andrew out on the touch-line, miles away, and a long, scin- tillating curve, ball dropping, as if by pre- arrangement, between the sticks. It was a moment of pure sporting perfection.

Perfection of another kind came at that match at Edgbaston. England asked for a special kind of wicket, and they got it. Unfortunately, the West Indies used it rather better. Especially Courtney Walsh. Walsh has never been the undisputed num- ber one bowler for his side, but he bowls and bowls and bowls, and that controlled, venomous, and utterly impersonal hostility in Birmingham was a thing to marvel at. Cricket at its best is a strange and terrible drama. Ask Walsh, ask Atherton.

My final hero is Lamtarra. Lamtarra was the Derby winner everybody said was no good. So he went on to win the King George. Everybody said he was no good. So he went on to win the Arc in Paris, com- pleting one of the greatest single seasons in racing history. He has earned every deli- cious filly they will send to him this spring.

Just as there was no real competition for the hero of the year, so I am completely unanimous in my selection of eejit of the year. There can be no arguing with it. Arise, Eric Cantona . . . though I am half- tempted to include him among the heroes as well. A mere punch on the abusive fan would have been enough for most hot- heads, but it is not in Cantona's nature to make a simple tap-in when the possibilities for an overhead kick open up before him.

Murmuring disconnectedly of sardines and trawlers, Cantona vanished, acted in a French film called Le Bonheur est dans le Pre, to return to football undiminished. `Vieillir ne signifie pas gull faille trahir sa jeunesse, ses exces,' he said: growing old doesn't mean that you have to betray your youth, your excesses. A hero in every eejit.

Running Cantona close for eejit of the year is Will Carling, England rugby captain. His throwaway remark about rugby union and the 57 old farts was folly enough for one year. But for an encore Carling was involved in still more exciting extra-curricu- lar pursuits. 'It was flattering that the Princess was interested in me,' Carling said. `That is probably where I made my first mistake.'

The next eejit nomination goes to Jack Rowell, the England rugby union team manager. It goes for his tactics in the semi- final against New Zealand. He put one man to mark the giant Jonah Lomu, poor Tony Underwood. It was an impossible assign- ment; Underwood duly blew it, the team lost, and Underwood was dropped. Row- ell's plan A: long before kick-off, find someone to blame.

From motor-racing. Damon Hill and Michael Schumacher share a single eejit nomination. Their habit of crashing into each and then exchanging school-dinner insults became the most colossal bore in the sporting calendar.

Jeff Tarrango cannot be denied a nomi- nation. Tarrango went off his head one Sat- urday afternoon at Wimbledon, marching off court after telling the umpire that he was 'the most corrupt official in the game'. His French wife Benedicte shares the nomi- nation. She slapped the umpire across the face. 'Yes, I eet eem,' she said, in a spell- binding press conference. 'And eet was not bad. Eet was good!' His behaviour drew strong criticism form the utterly appalled John McEnroe.

The final nomination goes to Brian Lana, who has walked out of the West Indies cricket team. If the best batsmen in the world can't stand the pace of modern sport, what is sport coming to? Is this the point at which the tidal wave of sport breaks and begins to roll back? Let the next 12 months of madness begin.