Championing the Lions in Australia
THE first whispers snaked their way through towards the end of the week. There had been unconfirmed sightings. Rumours, no more than rumours. It wasn't worth reacting. Not just yet. Jr was too early to get hopes up. Then came another phone call. And another. There was no doubting it. The source was reliable. The detail made sense. The location was a favourite for that type of individual — the Bourbon and Beefsteak in Sydney's King's Cross: Soho with knobs on. The time made sense too, three o'clock in the morning, Phew. Thank goodness for that. The players were normal after all. Traipsing round the land of endless sensory temptation with a bunch of professional rugby players is no longer the fun it ought to be. We are talking serious individuals here: fit, dedicated and locked like limpets to the straight and narrow. Not for them Gazza's Hong Kong dentist's chair with tequila poured neat and large straight down the throat. Not for them the dissolute ways of yore, where pints were downed, pianos were hurled out of windows and bedsheets set alight. In soccer it would be called hooliganism; in rugby such antics were known as jolly japes.
But, boy, how the beast has changed. Give him some money and he loses all sense of tradition. All work and no play makes our modern-day rugger bugger a very dull boy. He trains and then he trains some more, and then, as the sun slips towards the horizon with the Pacific sparkling and cocktail hour beckoning, he trains some more. In between he eats his bananas for energy, then reaches for the isotonic drinks and the protein glug.
The 2001 British and Irish Lions, who play Australia today in the first of the three-Test series, are admirable sportsmen. The work ethic is infused into every pore. Their heroes are those of like-minded ambition and inclination.
Trawl the very impressive Lions media guide and a thumbnail sketch quickly forms. Other Sportsperson Admired section: Neil Jenkins (Wales fly-half and world-record points scorer); Michael Jordan. Dafydd James (Wales wing): Steve Redgrave. Austin Healey (England jack-of-all trades and master of the sharp word): Tiger Woods.
Mind you, there are a few curve balls. Ireland centre, Rob Henderson, named Eric The Eel' Moussambani, the Olympic swimming no-hoper, for his 'courage, determination and balls'.
Beware, too, the spoof entry. And, as we attempt to shove these lumps of meat and muscle into a con
venient stereotype, let not public image necessarily pass for private truth. These robots have mothers too, you know, as well as a sense of humour.
Martin Johnson, stern and beetle-browed, a hard, unremitting character and the only man to captain a Lions squad on two tours, was invited in the guide to describe his personality. 'Very dull' is the reply. And, pray, what would you be if you weren't a professional rugby player? Answer: An amateur rugby player.' The subversive influence can be traced to the entry for 'Three people you'd most like to meet', wherein lurks the name of Homer Simpson.
Among the standard sportsman's literary taste (John Grisham thriller genre) lie a few more uplifting offerings. Wales centre Mark Taylor goes for Philip Roth's The Human Stain, while Scotland prop Tom Smith whiles away his hours perusing the scabrous Alan Clark's Diaries.
You need to scratch the surface of these guys. You need to applaud their dedication and recognise their circumstances. Snaring the Wallaby is a devilishly tricky number. Stay away from that drink, boys. You need all the rest you can get. The media can cake care of tradition.
MICK CLEARY
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