A word on behalf of minority sport
There, that’s better. Thank you.
And apologies, of course, to this cricket-mad little nation of ours, a place where, since time immemorial, little boys and girls have dreamt of nothing else but growing up to sport a big long beard like WG Grace or make complete eejits of themselves on ‘A Question of Sport’ like yer man Tuffers.
Not for nothing has this island of ours long been known as the West Indies of the eastern Atlantic, such is all the consuming passion here for the ancient Irish art of batting and bowling and catching and standing around for long periods scratching one’s behind.
How ironic, then, that it was none other than those upstart Windies who turned the tables on our boys yesterday, but even that setback was alleviated somewhat by the news that, doubtless inspired by Ireland’s earlier example, Bangladesh had done the business against Eng-er-land.
So Irish cricket appears to be inhabiting that Goldilocks zone where even when the news is bad, it’s good.
However, if it’s not considered treason to say so, I feel things have gone a trifle overboard ever since everything went ceart go leor in Bangalore.
Admittedly, it was a bit of a surprise result, I’ll grant you that, although the 17 million Irish sports journalists who suddenly revealed themselves to be cricket experts seemed divided as to how best to put the win against the old enemy into a perspective which is more readily understandable to the few of us who persist in clinging to a minority sport like football.
In the days since, I’ve seen it variously compared to Bray Wanderers coming back from four-down to beat Manchester United 5-4, North Korea smiting Italy at the 1966 World Cup or Brazil beating us at (take your pick) hurling, gaelic football or road bowling.
Myself, I’d probably opt to liken it to Birmingham City beating Arsenal in the League Cup final but that’s only because the sports editor is an Arsenal fan and one should never miss an opportunity to goad a Gooner (happily, if you do, there’s always another one along shortly).
As readers might have surmised by this point, your correspondent is one of what is now apparently a dwindling band of citizens whose staggering indifference to cricket is exceeded only by our breathtaking ignorance of the sport.
Admittedly, I am partial to cricket witticisms, of which Brian Johnston’s immortal description of Peter Willey facing up to Michael Holding — “the bowler’s Holding; the batsman’s Willey” — represents a kind of apotheosis in all sports commentary.
But then I’m even more partial to anti-cricket witticisms, of which, not surprisingly, there are even more, even if the quality doesn’t always keep pace with the quantity.
Still, Tommy Docherty’s “Cricket is the only game that you can actually put on weight while playing” is spoken like a true Scot.
Alec Douglas-Home’s, “Oh God, if there be cricket in heaven, let there also be rain” deserves nothing else but a heartfelt “Amen”.
And my old mucker Lord Mancroft surely knocked one for six when he observed that the English, not being a spiritual people, invented cricket to order to give themselves some conception of eternity. Or as someone else once remarked: “England played and the grass grew at the MCC today, two activities indistinguishable in their tempo.”
Before the PC crowd — that’s pro-cricket by the way — have me dragged away and strung up by the, ah, stumps, let me just say that I always strive to bear in mind the wisdom of Con Houlihan, who once remarked that he doesn’t mind people who don’t get sport — what he objects to is people who like to boast about the fact.
So, yes, all credit to yer man with the purple hair for bashing the Brits, — sorry I mean vanquishing the venerable opposition — and helping give us all reasons to be cheerful in these depressing times. It’s just that when you find yourself lying flat on your back on the road exhaling a mouthful of dust and diesel, having just been run over by a spanking new bandwagon jammed with sponsors, politicians, newspaper editors and radio and TV presenters, it beholds a man of principle to stand tall and cry, like a voice in the wilderness: “enough is enough”.
So, yes, feel free to cheer on Ireland against South Africa on Tuesday but please don’t forget those unfortunates who struggle to compete for a few column inches on the back page, never mind the front.
Diffident poor souls like Wayne Rooney, Ashley Cole and Stephen Ireland, honest to goodness sportsmen going about their business away from the glamour and clamour of the cricket World Cup.
It’s just not right that men like these should be relegated to a modest supporting role, somewhere between the lacrosse results and the bridge notes.
Or, to put it in the vernacular, it’s just not cricket.
Fortunately.
