There’s an inherent danger in becoming a cheerleader for the national team
I noted a . . . controversy would be too strong a term, animated discussion might be more accurate, about Ireland’s exit and the level of criticism, or not, levelled at the team as a result.
This is a hardy annual discussion, or even more frequent than a debate held once a year. It’s one of these arguments where your bias is declared by the terms you use, almost before you get into the substance of your argument: ‘These players are pros, so they should be able to take getting sliced like a rasher when analysed’ versus ‘these guys are representing us so they’re heroes who need to be supported’.
The players v guys terminology tells you everything.
Not that those are the only two sides of the coin, which, in this context is shaped much like the old fifty-pence piece (ease up on the imagery — the metaphor police), with other sides available as and when you need them.
For example, you can contrast the treatment of the rugby internationals with the treatment of the national soccer team, or GAA teams, or, say, the IABA (see elsewhere on this page).
You can also rely on your own experience of dealing with those players. One of the greatest displays of sheer ignoramus-ness this reporter ever had to deal with was given by a rugby player at an Ireland media day some years ago; it need hardly be added that said player is now an energetic media performer himself, now he’s retired.
As for this tournament’s evidence, there were some pretty clear contradictions on offer before and after Ireland were knocked out by the Argies. Sean O’Brien’s one-week suspension for a fairly cut and dried offence wasn’t held up in Irish media as the travesty that it was, for example, but there were more subtle examples of doublethink. As one pal of this column pointed out, how did one reconcile the school of thought suggesting that Ireland were never going to beat Argentina given the list of injured and absent players with the relief that O’Brien was ‘only’ going to miss one week?
There’s an inherent danger in becoming a cheerleader for the national team. Yours truly saw the end game with that particular choice at the 2007 Rugby World Cup, ironically enough, when L’Equipe carried out a scurrilous character assassination of Ronan O’Gara of this parish on the eve of a key France-Ireland game. If you’re there just to wave a flag for a team, then eventually you’ll find yourself climbing into the sewer to do their dirty work.
Does that mean dusting off the old tabloid headline from David Beckham’s red card back in 1998? ‘Ten Brave Lions, One Stupid Boy’ was good knockabout fun in its time but it isn’t needed.
Strong, independent evaluation doesn’t have to spill into invective.
Less of the hero talk wouldn’t be any harm all round.
The class of Camus remains a lesson for us all
For reasons too various to go into — his soccer career, his genius, his contribution to Cure songs — Albert Camus has always been a hero to this corner of the paper.
The Frenchman only underlines his greatness with the letter included in Shaun Usher’s new book, More Letters Of Note. It was written after Camus became the second-youngest winner of a Nobel Prize in 1957, at just 44.
To scale that peak, he overcame grinding poverty. His father was killed in World War I. His mother was illiterate, and practically deaf.
But a teacher spotted his potential and helped him, and Camus never forgot Louis Germain’s kindness and support.
In a letter, Camus told Germain that when he got news of the Nobel: “My first thought, after my mother, was of you. Without you, without the affectionate hand you extended to the small poor child that I was, without your teaching and example, none of all this would have happened.”
Camus played down the honour, save that it gave him a chance to tell Germain: “...what you have been and still are for me, and to assure you that your efforts, your work, and the generous heart you put into it still live in one of your little schoolboys who, despite the years, has never stopped being your grateful pupil. I embrace you with all my heart.”
Camus died three years later. He’d bought a train ticket for a journey but his publisher offered him a lift. Both died in a car crash.
Boxing saga leaves everyone with a bloody nose
The folks in Lansdowne Road must have strongly considered sending a hamper of goodies around to the National Stadium this week, given the way the sports news narrative moved onto the Billy Walsh saga.
Even allowing for the almost reflexive antipathy some people radiate towards sports administrators, the conduct of the IABA officials towards Walsh has been nothing short of staggering.
The timing was exquisite, of course.
Just as one of Walsh’s charges, Michael Conlan, picked up a world title, the negotiations were breaking down irrevocably, and we had the images of Walsh going through the departure gates — literally — late last week.
A point worth reiterating, though, was Michael Clifford’s observation last week in these pages on Irish Sports Council chief Kieran Mulvey’s comments about the IABA having its funding reviewed because of the decision. As Clifford rightly pointed out, if you step back from the emotion involved then you see that such a development would create a dangerous precedent for direct political involvement in operational sporting matters.
A chance to grab the keys to preparation
Earlier this week, this column chatted to Liam Hennessy of Setanta College about the Irish rugby team, World Cup scheduling and so on — you read it, you remember it.
Anyhow, Setanta are running a very interesting conference next month with some very big hitters talking about sports preparation — Des Ryan of Arsenal, Dave Alred, who’s worked with the England’s Rugby Football Union and many golf stars, Michael Fennelly, Damien Young, and many more.
This area is one of huge interest to a growing number of people, so if you’re interested, I advise logging onto www.setantacollege.com ASAP.
